


Changing of the Tides

by RaernS



Series: Not all Treasure is Silver and Gold [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/F, Inspired by Fanart, Limited Magic, No Lesbians Die, Shipwreck, Slow Burn, but like limited elves, eventually, first attempt at a serious longfic, no undead, only elves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2020-05-16 10:06:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19315972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaernS/pseuds/RaernS
Summary: Grand Admiral Jaina Proudmoore is caught in a chase of the notorious pirate queen known as The Banshee Queen. But when ancient magics go awry, Sylvanas, Jaina and their respective crews are stranded on an island that won't let them leave. Can they get past their differences and work together for the safety of their people? Moreover, will they be able to determine a way to escape this cursed place?Also, how many wet t-shirts does it take for lesbians to just go on lesbian-ing?Inspired by jawlipops Grand Admiral Jaina fanart... beware, it is thirst inducing.





	1. Pleasure Cruise

**Author's Note:**

> Here it goes, folks. I'm really excited to share this with y'all.

Jaina Proudmoore took a deep breath, welcoming the smell of sea salt in her lungs with a warm smile as she watched the sun rising over the eastern seas. She could feel the gentle rocking of the ship across the waves, a strong wind catching the sails and driving them forwards on their mission. Nothing but endless, blue water stretched out around them, the sight warming her in the early morning chill. Daughter of the Sea, her people called her, and standing near the edge of the bowsprit at the fore of her flagship,  _ The Tempest _ , no one would doubt the accuracy of the title.

 

She stood clad in her admiralty uniform, a simple white tunic under a thick blue overcoat with golden thread embroidery spanning the length of her sleeves and edges of the garment. Below, she wore navy blue breeches and deep brown boots designed more for function than form. She left her mostly white hair wild across her shoulders and back, the texture caused by years of sun and sea spray exposure leading to appearance of braiding similar to the northern dwarf clans. Daughter of the Sea, indeed, and every bit as fierce as the waves.

 

Her left hand squeezed the firm railing beneath it in an almost affectionate gesture. She cherished times like these, when the seas were calm, and the natural beauty of the open water was nothing short of astounding. While most captains kept to their quarters unless they were actively needed, Jaina always made it a point to emerge with the first light of dawn to appreciate the wondrous sight of the sunrise, a ritual of sorts that she inherited from her father to center herself for the stresses of the day ahead. It was said every Kul Tiran felt the call of the sea in their bones, but Jaina always seemed to feel it in her heart.

 

She turned away from the view as pinks and oranges broke for yellows in the sky and the sun climbed over the horizon, turning her attention towards the wheelhouse. Stepping with the surety of a woman who spent her youth at sea, the woman instinctively shifted her weight as the deck rocked gently beneath her. She clasped her hands behind her back beneath her thick overcoat as she ascended the stairs leading to the upper deck, coming to a halt beside the sailor currently manning the wheel.

 

“Grand Admiral,” the man greeted with a short nod, turning his attention from the mounted compass towards her entirely. “Lovely mornin’.”

 

Jaina smiled softly, patting the man’s shoulder in a friendly manner. “Yes, it is. How’s our heading, Daniel?”

 

The man’s eyes widened slightly, surprised that she recalled his name, before clearing his throat nervously. “Uh, two nicks south o’ east, Admiral. Caught a following sea ‘bout midnight ‘n’ followed ‘er in. Should be makin’ anchorage in Gilneas by late evenin’, Tides bless.”

 

Jaina nodded, keeping her easy smile as she patted the man again. “Relax, sailor,” she chuckled, though her words did little to ease the man’s posture. She stayed beside him for a few more moments, before leaving for her cabin, causing him to breathe out a sigh of relief.

 

Sometimes Jaina forgot how impressive her station was to the common sailor, as she had spent most of her life around people who certainly kept her humble. Her mother, her brothers… her father. As she entered her cabin and turned her thoughts to the past, she idly clasped the anchor pendant around her neck in her right hand, running her thumb over the fluke fondly. Daelin Proudmoore, while stern and unforgiving at times, was the best father she could have ever asked for, treating her no different than Derek and Tandred. He took her on cruises, taught her to navigate by the stars, and encouraged her to conquer any obstacle she would face in her life. It had come as no surprise that she had followed her father and older brother to the sea.

 

And now, here she stood, the highest ranking naval officer in the fleet, answering only to the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras: her mother.

 

Jaina pulled the chair of her desk back, using her left arm to guide her coat out of the way as she sat. With a slight hum, she looked down at her somewhat cluttered workspace, letters and maps strewn about in her own form of organized chaos. Her gaze settled on the blank parchment in the center with a slight frown. She should have written an official correspondence for King Greymane nearly two days ago, but how exactly does one let down an eligible bachelor's  _ father _ gently?

 

While her trip to Gilneas looked like little more than a pleasure cruise to the common folk, there was an ulterior motive to Jaina's visit. Liam Greymane, son of Genn Greymane and heir apparent of the coastal kingdom of Gilneas, had recently come of age, and it seemed that his father was all too ready to pawn him off in an arranged marriage for political gain. On paper, strengthening the ties between Gilneas and Kul Tiras seemed like a perfect idea. They were practically neighbors, no more than three days journey across the water, as opposed to the week and a half to Stormwind, the only other human kingdom not landlocked, and their locations made them both independent nations of hardy folk. And the trade agreements could always use an excuse for renegotiation. Liam was a strong young man with budding leadership traits that put any other royals except perhaps Jaina herself to shame, and such a marriage could allow the Grand Admiral to maintain her naval duties. Sure, he was only eighteen, while Jaina was approaching her late twenties, but such age gaps were typically commonplace in royal marriages.

 

However, Jaina's interest in women proved to be a  _ small _ problem.

 

_ "You could always take a mistress?" Modera suggested gently as she finished scouring yet another mug, placing it in the crate of clean cups to dry. "Few royal marriages share bedchambers, preferences aside." _

 

_ Jaina groaned as she drummed her fingers atop the wooden countertop she leaned against. "But these are  _ **_main-landers_ ** _ , Modera. I doubt taking a female consort would be met with anything but horror. Not to mention the pressure of producing an heir. There's no way to make this work without sacrificing who I am." _

 

Jaina winced at the memory of her conversation not a day prior with her crew's chef, shaking her head in some attempt to usher it away. She stared pointedly at the blank parchment before her, steeling herself for the task of coming up with a reasonable excuse as to why she was an unavailable suitor without causing a political incident. She removed the cap of her inkwell and took up her quill, dipping it into the fine black liquid and beginning to write.

 

_ King Genn Greymane- _

 

"Grand Admiral!" a sailor shouted as she banged on the door to the captain's cabin, pausing just a moment before bursting inside to stand before a startled Jaina.

 

"What is it?"

 

"Ship sighted, Admiral."

 

Jaina narrowed her eyes. They were traveling on a major waterway. Encountering others wasn't all that strange. "Colors?"

 

"Purple on a field of black. It's the Banshee!"

 

Jaina's blood ran cold as her senses crystallized with adrenaline.  _ Pirates. _

 

\---

 

Sylvanas Windrunner lazed in her self designed throne mounted on the main deck of  _ The Banshee's Wail _ , legs hanging over the left armrest as she braced her chin boredly atop her right fist, ears bent slightly in an almost comical display of boredom. All around her, her crew were toasting one another with tankards of ale overflowing as they counted the spoils of their successful raid of the Gilnean harbor, but the elf could not find it within herself to join in the revelry, not with her scheming mind already turning towards their next strike.

 

"My Queen." Her pale blue, nearly silver eyes flicked towards her first mate as he stood beside her throne, hands clasped behind his back. There was no doubt that Nathanos Marris, or Blightcaller, as he had chosen for himself, was her most loyal crewman. But his penchant for treading at her heels like a hound grew more tiresome with each passing day.

 

"Yes?" she drawled, gesturing towards him with her left hand held in the shape of a claw.

 

"The crew is celebrating their hard-won victory." Sylvanas could barely contain her snort. The raid was hardly a difficult one, considering that most ports this close to Kul Tiran waters had grown lazy from a lack of piracy, a fact secured by the island nation's new Grand Admiral. Still, the man continued without pause. "Should you not be joining them?"

 

Sylvanas rolled her eyes, slowly scanning across the deck to take in the scene of debauchery before her. She sighed heavily, shifting to sit upright in her throne, right leg crossing over left at the knee. "I see no point in celebrating a victory that could have been achieved in my sleep, Blightcaller." She turned her sour gaze towards the man. "However, I can suffer through the men's excitement for a moment, so long as it keeps them working. I expect us to reach Fen'harel by tomorrow, regardless of how drunk the crew may be. Have Velonara chart a course north by midday. That should be long enough to throw the dogs off our scent."

 

Nathanos bowed slightly at the hip, retreating back two steps before straightening and dispersing her orders. When she had first brought him onto her ship, his manners had been somewhat charming, but now, they only served to further annoy her. By the Sun, how she loathed those lacking a spine.

 

Left in peace, Sylvanas reclaimed her earlier pose of aloof disinterest, scanning the horizon in the brightening sunrise. She painted a magnificent picture, in a frighteningly exotic way. Elves were practically unheard of this far south, as many of her people remained within the natural borders of her homeland of Quel'thalas, and she had played that fact to her advantage when she began her life as a pirate. She had found that most humans, particularly men, thought beautiful was synonymous with weak. 

 

She relished the moments when she proved them wrong.

 

As it was, Sylvanas adapted to life on the sea better than she had anticipated. Gone were the flowing silks or delicate plate-wear of her homeland, traded out for simple linens in the shape of thigh hugging, black breeches and a low cut, white top that cut off below her bust, allowing for an ample display of her cream colored skin, only slightly tanned from her time on ships. Finishing off her appearance, she sported a thick overcoat, deep maroon in hue, with dull gold accents that seemed to be a requirement of station aboard human vessels, along with a few gold rings through her long ears and sturdy, well kept black boots. She allowed her hair to fall free, though she kept a ribbon tied around her right wrist for the express purpose of holding her pale blonde locks out of her face when they proved too troublesome.

 

Her fingers slowly drummed over her jaw as her mind’s eye turned towards the future. They would make anchorage in the neutral port of Fen’harel near sundown, likely avoiding any other ships looking to dock by arriving at such an hour. Given the dockmaster’s apparent fear of her in their past engagements, Sylvanas reasoned that securing a space would take no more than an hour, then she could leave Nathanos to assign shore leave and guard rotations appropriately. She smirked slightly. She might just have enough time for a decent bath before taking her night’s rest in a proper bed.

 

For all the adjustments to sea-faring life she had made, Sylvanas still missed the feeling of solid ground beneath her feet, a bed that didn’t constantly sway in the night and  _ living _ wood, not the carefully hewn planks that made up a ship. She longed for the life she had had, but was no more. A life of stalking through underbrush, grandiose trees with sun-colored bark stretching up to the heavens around her.

 

_ “In consideration of your crimes against the Kingdom of Quel’thalas, Sylvanas Windrunner,” the court magistrate began in a boring drawl, his eyes rising from the document he held aloft only briefly to affix her with a look of disdain. “It is the King’s will that you shall be banished from our lands henceforth, for as long as you do draw breath.” _

 

_ Icy tendrils of outrage clenched around her heart, chilling the very blood in her veins, and it was only by her militant discipline that she did not lunge forward in anger. Instead, Sylvanas stood with her head held high, staring directly ahead at the wall of the antechamber, ears twitching slightly as the only indication of her internal fury. _

 

_ “Your rank, bloodright and holdings shall be stripped, and you shall be escorted to the first gate with a week’s worth of provisions. Should you attempt to flee from your escort or return to our lands, you will be hunted with strict indifference, to be killed on sight.” The magistrate lowered the parchment, nodding to the guards at her sides, other rangers that she had once commanded. They both stepped forward, each clasping a hand around her upper biceps. She did not resist. “Your sentence begins now.” _

 

Her smirk had shifted into a deep scowl at the memory, the fury of that day coursing through her veins like smoldering magma. Her jaw clenched as she scanned the horizon again, her gaze halting abruptly at a small spec west of them, too far away for human eyes to see. But an elf’s senses were much more keen.

 

Sylvanas kicked herself out of her throne in a rush, storming her way to the port railing. Her crew knew better than to stand in her way when she got like this, and as such parted before her with looks of curiosity. She retrieved the spyglass from her belt, elongating it before raising it to her left eye. Clearly a ship, as she knew they were too far from any land masses for her to see, but as she trained the glass on the unknown vessel, she let out a deep growl.

 

“My Queen?” Nathanos spoke from her left.

 

Sylvanas lowered the spyglass with narrowed eyes, shoving it into the man’s chest to allow him to look, though she doubted he could even make it out, regardless of the magnification. “It seems we have a Kul Tiran galleon approaching us.” She turned her smoldering gaze to the rest of her crew, a small, wicked smirk tugging at her lip. “With our current load, we won’t outrun them,” she remarked wryly, and already her more experienced crew were breaking off from the prior celebration to man their stations. 

 

“To arms!” she called, spurring the rest into action as she turned her gaze back to the tiny speck that likely had only just spotted them. Sylvanas found herself grateful that she had allowed the crew to leave the colors up during the evening, forcing a battle. “We’ve a Kul Tiran to sink.”


	2. The Banshee and The Tempest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to @raedmagdon for beta-ing this chapter :)

“Admiral! They’re turnin’ to port!” called the barrelman, scrambling out of the crow’s nest and down the main mast as fast as his arms and legs would carry him.

 

Jaina cursed under her breath from her place at the wheel, having taken over navigation when she noticed Daniel had frozen up. He was a young lad, new to the fleet. She sent him below deck immediately, as she couldn’t afford hesitation. Not against such a notorious ship, anyhow.

 

“Get down! FIND COVER!” she called in a booming voice that carried across the ship, one she had honed with years of practice. She narrowed her eyes as _The Tempest_ drew closer, trying to gauge how much time she had before the first broadside blast would ring out across the water. Would it be a warning shot? Likely not, with how quickly the pirates had maneuvered into a firing position. And, of course, if they could identify her captain’s flag, a white anchor on a field of navy blue, they certainly would be firing to disable, if not to outright sink. Jaina smiled grimly at the thought that perhaps her crew would be saved merely because of her personal value as a hostage.

 

She ducked behind the wheelhouse seconds before the cannons of the other ship rang out in sharp reports, sending heavy cannonballs into the deck and masts. She heard shouts from her men, though it was impossible to tell if anyone had been hit by shrapnel or not. She straightened again, an internal clock ticking in her head, keeping track of the reload time. Counting the seconds before another blast.

 

It seemed like _The Banshee’s Wail_ was dead in the water, sails hoisted to avoid both damage from return fire and catching the wind. While Jaina knew the pirates wouldn’t have had the time to completely take down their rigging, and there were still ways of crippling the ship ahead of her, it made chain shot mostly pointless. With no sails to rip, the best she could do was break a mast.

 

Calculations ran through her head as she gauged the distance between _The Tempest_ and _The Banshee’s Wail_. She could theoretically get shots off from her two forward guns before the next volley came from the pirates, but they would hardly be accurate, let alone powerful enough to do more than startle the enemy. She shook her head, dismissing the idea and quickly examining her ship for damage. It looked like her starboard side fared better than port in the initial blast, as she could see a streak of destruction along the left side of the deck where a cannonball had dug into the wood. Gritting her teeth, she noticed her barrelman had not made it down fast enough, crying out on the deck as others tried to get him below.

 

“Brace for hard list to port! Starboard gunners, prepare to fire!” It was a risky move, especially if _The Tempest_ had suffered any damage to the portside hull, but that internal countdown was running out. She had to do something.

 

Jaina allowed for a second’s preparation in response to her orders before she jerked the wheel left, using all of her body weight to force the rudder to shift underwater and drive her ship into a turn. It would have been more effective if she could have dropped anchor at the same time and swung _The Tempest_ around a single point, but she didn’t have the time to call out those orders, nor hoist an anchor back up if the other ship chose to flee. The vessel dipped to the left as it began to turn slowly… _too_ slowly. She growled angrily as she held the wheel firm. The way her ship dipped on the left side prevented her starboard guns from aiming properly, but more importantly, it exposed her to more cannon fire below her waterline. She shook her head, feeling the seconds tick away. This was going to be close.

 

\---

 

“What is that _fool_ doing?” Nathanos muttered in disbelief under his breath beside Sylvanas. They stood on the main deck, the optimal position to give orders to the gunners as well as the helmsman while still seeing clearly.

 

Sylvanas had not expected her initial volley to deter the Kul Tiran vessel, but she also did not expect them to risk a full speed ram, either. Her eyes narrowed as _The Tempest_ continued to gain on them, the bowsprit engraving of some woman - it was always women on human vessels - growing more and more detailed by the second. Her ears flicked as she glanced down to check on her gunners’ progress of reloading, knowing better than to try to encourage them to speed up.

 

And then, even stranger than a head-on ram, the Kul Tiran vessel began a sharp turn to port, exposing her hull to _The Banshee’s_ guns. Sylvanas couldn’t hold back her soft scoff of amusement, even as her first mate didn’t comprehend the daring maneuver. “That ‘fool’ is trying to out-shoot us,” she commented dryly before glancing below deck once more. “Time, Anya?” she barked.

 

“Fifteen,” came the hurried response from the master gunner, causing her to nod approvingly.

 

“They’ll never straighten in time,” Nathanos purred smugly.

 

Sylvanas clasped her hands behind her back as she narrowed her eyes, watching the approaching ship wearily. She noted how _The Tempest_ had already finished the sharpest list of her turn. The helmsman would be driving the wheel back in the opposite direction at this point, in order to level the vessel out again and bring the starboard cannons down to fire. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she muttered, before calling out over her shoulder and shifting behind cover. “Brace for fire!”

 

\---

 

“Fire when you have a target!” Jaina bellowed as she hauled the wheel back to the right, hand over hand, as fast as she possibly could. Her upper back strained as she leaned into it, that clock continuing to click off in her mind. _Ten seconds_.

 

She narrowed her eyes to starboard as the deck began to right itself, the two masts of the pirate ship now visible over the railing and growing. _Five seconds._

 

Jaina rotated on the balls of her feet, preparing to dive around the left side of the wheelhouse and out of the way of the coming cannon fire.

 

_Three._

 

_Two._

 

_One._

 

Cannons blasted from both ships, a trade of explosive metal flying across the water into each ship. Jaina just barely managed to dive out of the way as a cannonball bounced into the deck where she had been standing seconds prior, splintering the wood of the railing behind her. Her ears rang, but she shook her head and straightened, tying the wheel in place to hold the vessel’s position. She leapt over the railing of the upper deck, landing on the main deck below with a grunt.

 

They weren’t close enough for boarding yet, though _The Tempest’s_ momentum would get them there, and she saw the crew of the pirate ship scurrying across the deck, preparing for close combat. She spotted two standing on the main deck, a man and a woman, but there was something different about the woman. Was she… an elf?

 

Jaina had only met one elf in person, and even then, _met_ was an operative term. She had spied him in a tavern in Boralus, making little conversation while nursing his drink. She had found his long ears and seemingly longer eyebrows strange, cat-like but in a wholly unpleasant way.

 

"Bosun!" she called out to a nearby crewman. "Ready a boarding party, standard rules of engagement." He nodded curtly before sprinting below deck to the armory. It was rare that pirates surrendered, since it was universal knowledge all that awaited them in port was a quick trip to the gallows, but she would offer the option anyway. Her gaze turned back to the other ship, where she found the man had left, but the woman remained.

 

She was staring at Jaina. It was too far to make out any expressions, but something inside the Kul Tiran seized at the sight. Fear? Something else? She didn't have time to consider it as she turned to head below deck herself.

 

\---

 

_So this is the Grand Admiral_ , she thought to herself. While the distance was too great for human eyes to make out much detail, Sylvanas could see the slight flush on her opponent's face, likely from the adrenaline of combat. The leader of the Kul Tiran fleet was younger than she anticipated, but that wasn't what drew her attention to the human.

 

Humans understood so little of the world they had mostly claimed for themselves. They could not feel the coils of ancient energy in the natural world, and they explained away unnatural occurrences as simple tricks of the mind. But all elves, including Sylvanas, could still sense the ebb and flow of magic, even if the means of controlling it had been lost over long generations. And it seemed the Grand Admiral bore some kind of charm on her person.

 

That knowledge caused the Banshee Queen to pause, if only momentarily. Sylvanas never trusted magical artifacts, as uncommon as they were even in Quel'thalas. There was always some catch, some trade to them, and thus they were far too unpredictable for her to bother with now. But facing a foe that had one? Well, that could be more dangerous than using one herself. Her eyes narrowed slightly as the Admiral barked orders to a nearby crewman. No, she had to approach this engagement carefully.

 

Sylvanas kept her place as the human looked back at her from across the water, loath to be the one to break the impromptu staring competition. She only turned once she saw the Grand Admiral retreat below deck, making her way to the wheelhouse.

 

"Did you sense it, too?" Velonara said stiffly, her ears flicking with irritation as her captain approached.

 

Sylvanas nodded. "It changes nothing," she responded in a clipped tone. Velonara and Anya were the only two left of her personal lieutenants amongst the Rangers, and as such, had shared in her banishment, albeit after she had been expelled from their homeland. Left on their own, it had only been natural that they had fallen in line behind their former General on the high seas. A fact Sylvanas constantly found herself grateful for.

 

" _We should disengage, General,_ " Velonara cautioned in their native tongue. It was rare she ever questioned her captain's orders, and she only ever did so in private, be it by location or language. Because of this, Sylvanas always valued her council.

 

Silvery-blue eyes narrowed slightly in anger. " _And what sort of example would that set to the others, if we flee from a nearly assured victory?_ "

 

The elf flicked her right ear slightly, an elven shrug, as she held fast to the wheel. " _We have no room for prisoners or plunder. Have Anya claim ammunitions are too low to properly sink the enemy while maintaining our ability to fight later. Just disable the Kul Tiran._ " She glanced at the other ship. " _Live to fight another day._ "

 

Sylvanas knew the other elf was right. There were too many unknowns, too many risks to pour all of her resources into this skirmish. While it would be a great boon to her reputation and trade to have sunk the Grand Admiral's vessel, it wasn't worth it. She nodded stiffly. "Be ready to make way to Fen'harel at my word," she commanded in Common, signaling the end of the discussion before turning towards the gun deck.

 

" _Fucking incompetent short-ears,_ " came a growling voice in Thalassian from down the passageway, bringing a smirk to Sylvanas's face. Anya had very little patience for humanity.

 

The Banshee Queen strode past rows of cannons, staying out of the way of the men and women who were currently reloading them at a frantic pace, moving as fast as they could while ensuring the guns didn't blow up in their faces. The room smelled of gunpowder and sweat, causing Sylvanas to wrinkle her nose as she placed a hand on her master gunner's shoulder.

 

Anya's ears perked upright, though she did not look away from the cannon she was currently reloading, having taken over when the original crew member who manned it had caught shrapnel from the returning fire. Soot covered her face and the shaved sides of her head, trails of sweat creating thin lines through the dirt.

 

" _I need you to shred their canvas,_ " Sylvanas muttered quickly, not wanting to alert the other crewmen in the hold of the different language. A twitch of an ear told her she was heard. " _I will act as though this decision was yours. Talk to Velonara once we make our escape._ "

 

Sylvanas didn't see the other elf's curt nod of acknowledgement as she turned and returned to the main deck, but she heard the shouted orders behind her. "Alright scumbags! Chain shot at the sails, now!" They brought a grim smile to the pirate's face.

 

\---

 

"Get the grappling hooks! Pull her in!" Jaina called, her eyes trained on the pirate ship off their starboard side. There was precious time before another volley of cannon fire, and she needed her boarding party on that other ship before then. There wasn't enough cover on the deck for them all.

 

Ropes flew across the water between them, some propelled by specialized firearms, others thrown by man power alone. While some of the hooks failed to catch anything substantial, there were enough to secure the ships to one another. Jaina grabbed a nearby rope, alongside her men, and pulled with all her might.

 

Another volley launched, though there wasn't enough volume for it to have come from both vessels. Jaina narrowed her eyes in confusion. Either her gunners had fallen behind somehow, or the pirates had held back their third round. She didn't have time to consider either possibility as the _The Banshee's Wail_ was hauled closer. Some of her crew prepared long planks to bridge the gap between decks and she could see the enemy situating themselves for the coming assault.

 

”Prepare to board!” she shouted as she gave a final heave on the rope. Others among her crew dropped the planks, just barely long enough to clear the gap as the pirates fired back at them with muskets and pistols. Jaina clambered atop one of the makeshift bridges, drawing her cutlass as she dodged the hail of gunfire and ran across the rickety platform. Scanning the faces of the pirate crew, she searched for their captain as a primary target, but was unable to locate the elf. She settled on slashing out at the pirate immediately in front of the boarding plank, catching him in the shoulder as he was too distracted to muster an adequate defense. Red coated the edge of her blade, blood splattering on the deck as she flicked her weapon out to the side.

 

“Per the Alliance compact, you’re under arrest for piracy,” she remarked with a grim smirk as the man scrambled out of her reach, attempting to draw his blade with his uninjured arm. Her head whipped to the side as another round of cannon fire went off, this time directly below her. _They held their fire? Why?_ From her precarious perch on the plank, she took precious few seconds to glance back at _The Tempest_ , trying to assess the damage. Instead of new gaps in the hull, like she had expected, there were vicious rips across the three main sails. Beyond that, flames sprouted from the topsail of her main mast, threatening to spread across the rigging.

 

“Pity we couldn’t meet under other circumstances, Grand Admiral.”

 

Jaina turned wide eyes back in front of her, only to be greeted by the sight of the elf captain a few steps from the edge of the plank. Spying the female pirate, she realized the elven features she remembered were startlingly beautiful on a woman. She shook her head briefly, clearing her mind. Finding the enemy attractive was not a good idea in the middle of a battle.

 

She brandished her sword forward, intending to advance as she spat her response venomously, “Banshee Queen, I presume. I don’t meet with pirates.”

 

Sylvanas cracked a wicked smirk, ears pinned back as she surged forward, sword thrusting towards Jaina’s left shoulder, only to be hastily batted away by the human’s weapon. “Then allow me to cut this short, _medivh_ ,” she hissed as she dropped her blade, taking the edge of the plank in both hands in a tight grip. Jaina could not regain her balance in time to leap onto the deck as the elf shoved the bridge off the railing of _The Banshee’s Wail_ , sending the Grand Admiral and her boarding party tumbling into the ocean.

 


	3. Dark Tidings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely Rae D Magdon (I will figure out how tagging other authors works on this site, but not today, lols)

Jaina hit the water hard, clenching her teeth to prevent an involuntary exhale in protest. With a quick shake of her head to shift her hair out of her vision, she swam for the surface, breaching with a gasp. She cursed profusely as she saw the rest of her boarding party either bob to the surface, or fall from other planks as they were rebutted by the pirates. She narrowed her eyes as she noted the guns of _The Banshee’s Wail_ were already pulled out of their ports, shutters hurriedly closed as she watched. 

 

“Loose the sails! Velonara, get us out of here!” Jaina could hear the echoing orders of the elven captain. _They mean to flee?_ The Grand Admiral floundered briefly before swimming back towards her ship.

 

“Continue firing!” She slapped the hull of the _Tempest_ as hard as she could, hoping her own gunners could hear her, but it mattered little. Her crew was scattered, those that weren’t in the water alongside her busy with putting out fires in the sails. Jaina watched with gritted teeth as the pirate vessel drew further and further away, gaining speed quickly. A knotted rope dropped from the deck above, causing her to crane her neck back to look up.

 

“Grab on, Jaina!” Modera was just barely visible over the railing. The Grand Admiral scowled at the thought of her longtime friend being caught above decks during a fight, but after a quick glance towards _The Banshee’s Wail_ , she knew the skirmish was over. With yet another curse, she grabbed onto the rope and began to haul herself and her waterlogged clothing onto the ship.

 

\---

 

"Why are we _leaving_?" Nathanos spat, glaring first at Velonara, then at his captain, though he schooled his features accordingly.

 

Sylvanas's ears twitched as she fixed him with a cold glare. "Are you questioning me, _Blightcaller_?" The tone of her voice, quiet though it was, caused the man to stand ramrod straight, the faint flicker of fear flashing in his eyes. "I trust my Master Gunner had a sound reason for disabling the Kul Tiran ship instead of sinking it. Need I remind you that we are full with bounty and incapable of carrying prisoners?"

 

"No, my Queen."

 

She scoffed, dismissing him with a flick of her wrist. As he descended the steps from the upper deck, she rolled her shoulders back with a heavy sigh, ears dipping slightly with weariness. She glanced at her smirking helmsman. "Don't."

 

Velonara snickered quietly, ears slightly perked. "The hound looks good with his tail between his legs."

 

Sylvanas offered a tired smirk. "I grow tired of his shortsightedness."

 

"We could always throw him overboard," remarked Anya as she approached the other two elves, wiping sweat and soot from her brow. "I'm sure the sharks would appreciate it." She smiled at Velonara’s snort. “ _Though,_ ” she began with a serious tone in their native tongue, looking at Sylvanas, “ _What_ **_was_ ** _my sound reason for switching to their canvas?”_

 

The Banshee Queen’s left ear dipped slightly. “ _Did you not sense the magic? We agreed it would be unwise to engage fully against such an unknown threat.”_

 

_“_ ** _That’s_ ** _what that was?”_ Anya’s ears shot upright in alarm, glancing briefly towards her partner with concern. “ _I thought it was just my instincts telling me the short-ears were fucking something up.”_

 

_“In a way, you were right, heart,”_ Velonara piped in, though she was watching the sails above as she navigated into the strongest winds. “ _It just so happens that it wasn’t our short-ears this time.”_

 

Anya scowled, her lips pressed into a thin line. None in the trio needed to voice what they were all feeling, the unease of the knowledge that the Grand Admiral of Kul Tiras, their greatest enemy, had some kind of magic on her side. When the silence finally broke, it was by Sylvanas’s words. “Anya, get some rest. We shall deal with this when we reach Fen’harel, but we’ve evaded the threat for now.” The master gunner nodded curtly, right ear tilted slightly back in a question. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sending Velonara down to you in a moment.” Seeming satisfied, Anya took her exit silently.

 

“Sun willing, we should get there before nightfall, Queen,” Velonara stated, turning her eyes back to her captain.

 

Sylvanas nodded, gazing across the endless water silently for a time. _“Do you regret staying by my side through all of this?_ ”

 

_“Never, General._ ” 

 

The Thalassian words held more conviction and loyalty than Nathanos or any other human could ever hope to provide to the pirate captain. She turned her gaze towards her lieutenant-turned-navigator and found the same loyalty staring back at her. With a brief smile, Sylvanas took the wheel. “Go get your partner cleaned up. I’ll send word when we’ve made port.”

 

\---

 

The fires in the sails had effectively crippled the _Tempest_ , as she and her crew crawled into the Gilnean harbor three days later, fortunate enough to have caught currents most of the remaining distance. Jaina nearly skinned the quartermaster for not stocking replacement sails, though even she knew such preparation would have been overkill for a pleasure cruise to Gilneas. She sighed with relief when the main land came into view and they had been able to signal for a tow into port. To her dismay, it seemed the Gilneans had their own troubles with pirates. One that had led to the loss of none other than Prince Liam Greymane.

 

Jaina stood resolute in her dress uniform, a properly buttoned, Kul Tiran green overcoat, stark white breeches and polished black boots, at the back of the crowd of mourners that had lingered after the conclusion of the late prince’s funeral, hands clasped tightly behind her back. She knew Liam, as many royals did across the Six Kingdoms, and while she didn’t necessarily want to _marry_ him, it stung a bit for him to be gone. To piracy, no less.

 

She watched as the grizzled king of Gilneas pulled away from his wife and daughter, turning and making eye contact with her. She found herself standing a tad straighter as he made his way toward her. “Kul Tiras extends its condolences, King Greymane,” she stated formally when he was within earshot. She offered out her right hand to him. “I’m sorry.”

 

The aging king took her hand in a firm grip, placing his left over the back of her palm as he looked at her earnestly. “These pirates _must_ pay for the harm they have caused to my people. To my family.”

 

Jaina nodded in agreement. “Know that I will see to it personally, your majesty.” She stiffened her jaw as she pulled away from him with a sigh. “My regret is that I was not able to dispense justice sooner.”

 

Genn nodded solemnly, his gaze wandering over to the sealed mausoleum that now housed his only son. “I would give _anything_ to hold my boy again,” he muttered softly, his voice wavering slightly in pain. His steely grey eyes returned to the Grand Admiral. “Barring that, I want to see this Banshee Queen hung from the gallows.”

 

“If I am able to capture her alive, your majesty, I will be sure to bring her to Gilneas to face her crimes,” Jaina vowed, fists clenched tightly at her sides. She doubted she would be able to retrieve the pirate queen in any state other than a box, but she knew the sentiment would be appreciated by the grieving monarch.

 

“Our shipwrights will do what they can to make your vessel seaworthy again, Lady Proudmoore,” Genn continued as his gaze returned to the mausoleum. “It won’t be Kul Tiran work, but-”

 

“We appreciate it, your majesty,” Jaina replied as the king’s voice wavered again. “After a brief stop in Boralus to resupply and take on a more experienced crew, I’ll set out after her.” Genn nodded again and she found herself at a loss of how to comfort the man. She settled with placing her hand over his forearm for a gentle squeeze. “I’ll find her.”

 

\---

 

The _Tempest_ was underway the following morning, outfitted with new sails and a mended hull. Jaina kept busy poring over maps of the surrounding seas, racking her brain for some idea of where the pirates could have lain anchor. While it was possible they had made a nest out of one of the many unexplored islands in the gulf, she figured they would need repairs just as much she had, so she focused on ports sympathetic to pirates. There were a few places on Azeroth that welcomed pirates, and a few more that didn’t bother to ask too many questions. She glanced up from her papers, noting that evening had fallen as she worked. The view of the dark night sky through her cabin windows reminded her of simpler times, when her father would take her on cruises to Gilneas or Stormwind.

 

_“Look up there, my dear.” Daelin Proudmoore guided his daughter’s gaze upward toward the night sky, where the stars dotted like shining pearls full of wonder. Jaina tilted her head upward, nearly losing her balance atop his shoulders as she leaned back too far, only to be caught by her father’s strong hands on her shins. She gasped softly with a broad smile, kicking her legs in excitement._

 

_“They’re so pretty, Papa,” she whispered, causing a deep chuckle from the man holding her up. She pointed up at one of the constellations. “What’s that one called?”_

 

_Daelin smiled warmly as he followed his daughter’s arm. “That’s the Eastern Rose. See how those three stars form the stem, and then the petals there?” He pointed out the details with his hand, causing the little girl to giggle._

 

_“It looks too short to be a rose,” Jaina said doubtfully._

 

_“Well,” the Lord Admiral chuckled, “not everything in the sky can look like it does down here. But do you know why it’s called the Eastern Rose, child of mine?”_

 

_“Is it because it’s always east, Papa?”_

 

_“Smart young girl.” Daelin grinned. “With the rose to your back, you’ll always be coming home.”_

 

Jaina’s lips pursed as her gaze fell on the Eastern Rose, and she let out a heavy sigh as she pushed herself out of her chair. She walked silently from her cabin toward the mess, resolving that she had been hard at work for too long, and perhaps a cup of tea and conversation would refresh her enough to make progress tracking down her quarry. She nodded gentle greetings toward crewmen that she passed until she rounded the corner into the mess, smiling at Modera, who was already pouring tea.

 

“Something told me you’d be stopping by tonight, Captain,” Modera commented wryly, sliding the mug of steaming tea across the counter as Jaina sat down.

 

She lifted the cup in both hands, allowing its warmth to seep into her fingers. “It’s just Jaina tonight, Modera.”

 

“Well then, Jaina,” Modera stated as she set about pouring herself a glass of tea from the kettle. “What’s troubling you?”

 

“I have to find these pirates-”

 

Modera clicked her tongue, cutting Jaina off with a shake of her head. “You and I both know that’s not all of it, is it? You’ve been hunting pirates for seven years. This is nothing new.”

 

Jaina sighed heavily as she took a sip from her mug, her gaze falling to the counter. She remained silent for some time, but her friend waited patiently until she spoke. “It’s just something that pirate said to me, before tossing me into the water.” Jaina looked up at the older woman, brow slightly furrowed in concentration. “ _Medivh_? It’s got to be elvish for something.”

 

Modera snorted. “Probably some foul slur.”

 

Jaina shook her head. “But it didn’t sound vulgar.” She sighed, frowning softly. “I guess I don’t really know what filth sounds like in elvish, but… I don’t know. It’s been troubling me in the back of my mind. It’s probably unimportant,” she muttered, taking another swallow of tea and savoring its warm glide down her throat.

 

“Ah, Jaina,” the older woman shook her head again as she turned and replaced the kettle over the fire box. “You always were the curious sort. Always trying to understand all you can.” She turned back to the Grand Admiral with a sympathetic look. “Best to put it out of your mind. Maybe after all this is over, you can try to find an elf to translate for you. Aren’t there quite a few of them in Fen’harel, to the north?”

 

Jaina nodded slowly, before stilling in realization. “...That’s it!”

 

“Hm?” Modera hummed as she raised a brow. “Fen’harel?”

 

“Yes! It’s an entirely neutral port with an elven population.” She grinned, feeling confident that she had solved her current dilemma. “Where else would an elven pirate go for refuge? And even if she _isn’t_ there, I’m sure someone knows something about where the Banshee Queen frequents.” She hastily gulped her tea, setting the empty mug down. “I need to chart a course, but thank you, Modera.”

 

The older woman shook her head with a slight smirk as Jaina rushed back toward her cabin. “Anytime.”

 

\---

 

Sylvanas groaned softly as she lowered herself into the steaming water of the public bathhouse in Fen’harel, quite pleased to find she was the only patron at this hour. She waded through waist deep water to settle in a corner of the pool, draping each arm on either side of her like a regal monarch. Her eyes closed as her ears drooped in quiet contentment, happy to enjoy one of life’s simple pleasures in peace.

 

_The Banshee’s Wail_ had pulled into the neutral port shortly after sunset, and after a brief discussion with the dockmaster, the Banshee Queen had secured docking and requisitioned the necessary repairs. She ordered Nathanos to dispense a shore leave schedule to the rest of the crew, then stalked off to one of the few places still open to her that reminded her of home.

 

Her left ear twitched minutely and she opened her eyes to slits to watch a couple, human man and elven woman, enter the bathing chambers she was currently occupying. The woman eyed Sylvanas before nodding respectfully, though the man seemed far too engrossed in his companion to be bothered. The pirate’s ears rotated forward in a silent question, only to be answered with averted eyes from the other elf. _Of course,_ she thought bitterly as she let her eyes drift shut once more. _Another desperate soul bedding humans to survive._

 

Quel’thalas liked to view itself as a forgiving nation. King Anasterian outlawed executions nearly two thousand years ago, claiming the barbarism had no place in their gilded society. As an alternative, most crimes that warranted more discipline than fines were punished with the strict indifference of banishment, a capital punishment in its own right. Sylvanas herself had seen many convicted souls dead within the forested borders beyond the First Gate, unable to fend for themselves in the wild and having nowhere else to turn.

 

Most elves in Quel’thalas lived without want, having basic needs provided for by Silvermoon’s coffers. As such, few had marketable skills beyond their homeland’s borders. Fen’harel had become a safe haven for those unfortunate outcasts, an island southwest of the coast. The small port did its best to provide elven comforts while serving as an exotic escape for the other races of Azeroth, relying on tourism to stay afloat. Unfortunately, such an environment gave citizens little option as far as means to provide for oneself. It was painfully common to find elves, both men and women, laying with sailors and adventurers in rented beds for a handful of coins.

 

Sylvanas allowed her mind to wander as the heat of the bath seeped into her bones, soothing aches both new and old. She did her best to ignore the superficial conversation between the couple who had chosen a spot across from her in the bath, but she couldn’t help slight twitches of irritation at the too-sweet tone of the elven woman, feigning interest in the human’s overblown boasts. Eventually, she opened her eyes to glare meaningfully at the elf, catching the woman’s eye with a silent command.

 

The courtesan coughed gently, her ears flicking backwards as she coaxed her client out of the bathhouse, bowing her head slightly in deferment to the other elf as she left. The display brought a satisfied smile to Sylvanas’s lips. She was glad to know her reputation still carried weight with her people, though it was hard to tell if said repute came from her current or former profession.

 

_"Piracy?" Anya asked, ears pinned back in confusion at the new term._

 

_"Yes," Sylvanas replied, clasping her hands together atop the rough table she shared with her two lieutenants. "Theft and intimidation of human merchants at sea. There is more freedom in it than hunting and trapping in the human kingdoms. While our skills are more suited for forests, I've found humans and dwarves to be wary of fair trade, and I tire of merely surviving in this forsaken world."_

 

_Anya frowned in consideration, but the former Ranger General could see that beside her, Velonara was connecting the dots. She waited patiently until the younger elf spoke. "Surely there are naval units trying to prevent such a thing?"_

 

_Sylvanas nodded in agreement. "Of course, and they are just as incompetent at it as humans are at anything they set their measely lives to. I evaded no less than three such vessels on my way to Fen'harel. With you two at my side, they would prove inconvenient, at best."_

 

_She watched as both women shared a silent glance. Velonara shifted her hand to clasp Anya's under the table as she looked back at Sylvanas. "We've struggled enough already, General. We'll serve again loyally, if you'll have us."_

 

Sylvanas stirred from her reverie as she heard laughter from the entrance of the bathing room, tensing slightly in preparation to deal with another interruption of her peace. She needn't worry, however, as Anya and Velonara entered hand in hand.

 

Her helmsman spotted her first. " _General,"_ she greeted pleasantly as Anya looked at Sylvanas with a nod. None of them were bothered by their collective nudity. It was nothing new, considering how long they had served together in Quel'thalas.

 

Sylvanas relaxed back into her spread out pose as the two elves joined her in the water. She cast a wry smirk in their direction. _"I would have assumed you two already found a room."_

 

_"My heart still smelled of cannons and sweat,"_ Velonara commented dryly, earning a playful splash of water to her face. It felt natural to speak Thalassian when they were alone. It reminded Sylvanas of better times.

 

Anya ducked under the water to wet her raven-hued mane, rolling her eyes as she surfaced. _"You didn't seem to mind earlier."_

 

_"Earlier, you were spewing filth like a dragonhawk in heat."_

 

_"Ladies,"_ Sylvanas interrupted with a chuckle. _"Please. I am lonely enough without your flirtations in front of me."_ Her words were met with the slightly chastised grins of her lieutenants, women she had long since accepted as friends.

 

_"You know the Blood Elf would humor you, if you tried,"_ Velonara teased as she settled against the edge of the bath, wrapping her right arm around Anya's shoulders when her lover shifted to her side.

 

Sylvanas rolled her eyes at the mention of the de facto ruler of Fen'harel. She had more than a few encounters with the woman in question, perhaps more than most did in the small port, but she found herself uninterested in pursuing that course of action. _"After asking for a sum that would give the Sunstriders pause, I'm sure,"_ she commented dismissively, ears flicking slightly to warn her helmsman not to press.

 

Velonara heeded the silent warning, closing her eyes as she rested her head against Anya's shoulder. The other elf raised a brow in the Banshee Queen's direction, but based on her quick glance toward her partner, Sylvanas could deduce that she had been adequately cautioned as well.

 

_"Since you are both present,"_ she began again, changing the subject smoothly. _"Perhaps we shall discuss the issue of the Grand Admiral."_ She allowed her expression to sour somewhat, as she hardly wanted to speak on the subject herself, but Sylvanas was hardly foolish enough to attempt to ignore the newfound danger of Jaina Proudmoore. There was no time like the present to begin strategizing.

 

_"You're the last person we have to caution about magic,"_ Velonara murmured. _"But we can hardly afford to avoid the Kul Tiran fleet indefinitely."_

 

_"And a fair battle is hardly fair with that charm,"_ Anya added, brow furrowed and ears bent in concern.

 

Sylvanas smiled grimly. _"Then we shall have to make it unfair."_ She drew the tips of her fingers across the surface of the pool, left ear cocked in thought. _"Velonara, are you confident navigating northwestern waters?"_

 

The ranger-turned-helmsman sighed quietly. _"I can do it, though the reefs make it especially dangerous. If we lure the Kul Tiran there, we won't have room to flee. We will be creating a victory or death scenario."_

 

_"Given enough ammunition, I'm confident we can sink it."_

 

Sylvanas nodded slowly, considering the given circumstance. While the _Tempest_ had impressive maneuverability for a galleon of its size, there was no way the ship could navigate the reefs of Nazjatar like _The Banshee's Wail_ could. It would force a gunfight, and while she trusted her master gunner's judgment, it would be a great risk to her own ship's ability to make it back to port. She grit her teeth as her ears pinned back. _"That is a risk we simply must be willing to take._ "

 

She examined the expressions of the elves sitting across from her, pleased to see the same resolute nature she had come to expect from them. All of her rangers would follow her into death if she asked it of them. In fact, many of them had. Anya and Velonara were no different.

 

Sylvanas rose, pulling back her pale blonde hair. _"We have a few days in Fen'harel before the Kul Tirans will come searching for us. Enjoy it while you can,"_ she commanded, stepping out of the bath. _"Our next journey will be a difficult one."_

 

Velonara and Anya nodded grimly, remaining silent as their leader left them in peace.


	4. To Hunt a Banshee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with a little bit of gayness... Not quite the gayness we're all here for, but it's something?
> 
> Once again, thank you to RaeDMagdon for beta-ing this chapter.

Valeera Sanguinar was many things. Clever. Manipulative. Constantly underestimated. But, as she found herself staring across the docks from her balcony, she was beginning to find that patience was one thing she had scant supply of in her repertoire.

 

Kul Tiran vessels were not rare in her harbor - those few who had been trusted with an audience with her knew that Fen'harel was assuredly _her_ port - but like any place that allowed free passage to criminals, the appearance of a military ship armed to the teeth stirred quite a ruckus. Valeera did not _like_ ruckuses. It affected all aspects of her business, caused undue complications, and heightened risks to her personal safety. Thus, the new vessel in her harbor gave her more than a little pause.

 

Valeera clutched the metal railing with both hands, green-blue eyes narrowing at the captain’s flag flying over the ship. _The Grand Admiral?_ Her lips curled upwards into a coy smirk as she crossed her arms. Rumors had reached her ears of Lady Proudmoore’s sexual preferences and she found herself wondering how easily she could exploit it. 

 

She briefly scanned the other ships in the harbor, noting more than one pirate vessel among them. Colors stowed or not, the Blood Elf knew every pirate that set foot in her town, and judging by the state _The Banshee’s Wail_ had anchored in, she figured the Banshee Queen caused the military presence in her harbor.

 

Her ears shifted back minutely. She knew which inn Sylvanas preferred in town. It would be simple to send a missive of warning, and having a favor of the most notorious pirate in recent memory in her back pocket could prove useful. Her smirk grew as she retreated from the balcony, scrawling two notes at her desk inside. Valeera always knew how to benefit from both sides of a confrontation.

 

\---

 

Sylvanas stirred from her meditative trance at the rapping sound on the door to her meager room. Ears pinned back, she slid off the bed without a whisper, retrieving a dagger from her boot at the foot of the bed. Her bare feet pressed surely against the floor with every step as she held the weapon behind her back, left hand wrapped around the door handle. “Yes?”

 

“The Blood Elf sends her regards.” Her left ear perked upright at the muffled words. She cautiously opened the door far enough to see the plainly dressed human man standing beyond the threshold, folded parchment clutched in both hands. Sylvanas saw past his attempt at appearing calm, noting the slight tremble of his fingers as he looked away from the opening of the door. 

 

 _At least she has finally learned I have no interest in her wenches,_ she thought bitterly as she held out her free hand, dagger still gripped tightly behind her back in case of some ruse. “Give it here, human,” she hissed, alerting him to her annoyance of being disturbed. He handed the parchment over, glancing back down the hallway to make an exit. “Stay. I may need you to carry my response.” She watched as he swallowed and nodded to indicate his obedience.

 

Sylvanas fought back a grin at his obvious fear as she slipped her knife into her waistband, cold pommel resting against the small of her back. She unfolded the parchment, scanning the delicate Thalassian script.

 

_My Dearest General,_

 

_It has come to my attention that you have brought green-clad rats to my streets. Imagine my alarm that perhaps you had forgotten the agreement of all those who visit my home and instead brought attention upon my own business._

 

_However, I write not to banish you once more, but to propose a trade. It is within my power to stall the humans so you might slip away unnoticed. It is also within my power to lead them to your very room. Should I choose to gift you with the former, rather than the latter, I’m sure you would be eternally grateful, no?_

 

_I shall take your silent departure as agreement._

 

_Sanguinar_

 

It did not surprise Sylvanas that the Kul Tirans had come searching for her and her ship in Fen’harel, though the fact it took so long amused her, in the very least. However, the audacity of Valeera to send her such an ultimatum made her hands clench along the edges of the parchment, crumpling it. She grit her teeth as her ears twitched, glowering over the top of the missive at the unfortunate messenger. He whimpered slightly - apparently he had been around others of her kin long enough to recognize the signals of her ears and what they spoke of her emotional state.

 

“Tell your _mistress,_ ” Sylvanas began, her voice little more than a dark purr. “That I do not _appreciate_ threats and that I will _gladly_ dispose of her vermin should she lead them into my den.” She shoved the crumpled note into his chest, causing the young man to flinch. He glanced again toward the end of the hall, looking like he would bolt, but she stopped him with a delicate, deadly hand on his shoulder and a sinister smile. “Assure her that _The Banshee’s Wail_ will be setting off at earliest convenience, and if she wishes to share that information with a particular Grand Admiral, I would be ‘eternally grateful.’”

 

The man darted away as Sylvanas released him, not daring to even glance back to see if she watched his departure. She chuckled softly to herself as she retreated into her room, returning her dagger to its proper place in her boot. Letting out a tired sigh, she tightened the laces of her loose tunic and fastened her belt and cutlass to her hip. Her boots came next, after a fresh pair of socks, then finally, she retrieved her maroon coat from its hook by the door. She offered the room a final glance, ensuring she left nothing behind and lamenting the abrupt end of her vacation, before stepping through the door and down the hall.

 

Two doors down, she rapped her knuckles against the weathered wood of her lieutenants’ room in a simple rhythm. Her keen ears perked at a brief squeal, followed by a muttered curse before the door opened, revealing the ruffled brown hair and entirely nude body of Velonara. “ _Yes, General_?” Sylvanas could just make out Anya strapped spread-eagled to the bed.

 

Sylvanas grinned slightly with a raised brow. “ _Sorry to interrupt the festivities, but I need you two to round up the rest of the men. The Kul Tiran has found us.”_ She watched as Velonara’s neutral expression descended into one of disappointment before the woman nodded. _“And Anya?”_

 

A muffled noise came from the bed, which Velonara quickly explained, ears wilting slightly in shame. _“She’s gagged, General.”_

 

Sylvanas snorted with a shake of her head. _“Make sure we have the firepower necessary to destroy the Tempest thrice over.”_

 

 _“Mmf, Enruhl,”_ came the muffled response from her master gunner. Sylvanas paused for a moment, setting her gaze on Velonara.

 

_“...perhaps you have a few minutes to ease her suffering, Velonara. I’ll be in my quarters on the Banshee. Find me when we’re ready.”_

 

Velonara smiled and inclined her head. _“Thank you, General.”_

 

\---

 

Jaina had been mildly surprised when the dockmaster had informed her that her presence was requested at the _High Seat,_  quite possibly the most infamous brothel in Azeroth, by the secretive figurehead of Fen'harel. She had been even more surprised when instead of being greeted in some sort of over glorified antechamber, she was instead ushered into a private dining room with none other than Lady Sanguinar, the mistress of the house.

 

Sanguinar set down her goblet of wine, folding her hands in her lap. "Grand Admiral," she began cooly, setting her eyes on Jaina. "I'm sure you can understand my surprise upon seeing the jewel of Kul Tiras's navy laying anchor in my docks. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

 

"I'm searching for a pirate." Jaina sighed as she lowered her fork to the table, meeting the woman’s gaze. "An elven pirate, more specifically."

 

"As you know, Fen'harel does not harbor pirates." The words passed the Blood Elf's lips with the ease of practice. _Officially,_  it was true. Though no one, least of all the Grand Admiral, would believe for a second that every ship moored to the docks of the neutral port dealt in legitimate trade.

 

Jaina fought the urge to roll her eyes, pasting on a fake smile instead. "Of course, but I have reason to believe she might have fled here after our skirmish." She knew how to deal with folk like Sanguinar. "I only ask for your cooperation in my search. Perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement to benefit us both?"

 

The woman raised a brow, smirking wickedly back at the Admiral as she reclaimed her wine glass. "You wish to trade for my information?"

 

"Yes," Jaina affirmed as the elf took a sip of the sanguine liquid. "It's no secret that many of your people reside here, and I'm sure you make it a point to be aware of their comings and goings."

 

Sanguinar hummed as she lowered her glass, left ear quirking up in interest. "But what are you willing to trade for my expertise?"

 

"Kul Tiras offers a standing bounty of five thousand gold for the aid of capturing a pirate vessel, and I happen to know the King of Gilneas will match that offer for this particular pirate queen."

 

"So you're looking for the Banshee?" The overly sweet tone accompanying the words lead Jaina to believe she already knew the answer. "In other circumstances, the gold would suffice. However, information on the Banshee Queen comes at a premium that coin cannot afford." The elf's eyes lingered briefly on Jaina’s chest with a twinkle of interest.

 

The Kul Tiran sat upright stiffly in alarm. "If you're trying to imply…"

 

A taunting chuckle cut her off. "No, I make it a point to not trade pleasure for information, Lady Proudmoore." The woman’s smirk grew tenfold. “Though, _that_ is something your coin _can_ buy.”

 

Jaina choked on air, looking away from her dining companion as a blush spread across her features. That seemed to only amuse the Blood Elf further. “N-no, thank you,” she stuttered, clearing her throat as she forced herself to look at the woman once more.

 

“Unfortunate.” Sanguinar tutted softly at the loss, though her eyes never lost their predatory glimmer. It made Jaina’s skin prickle with discomfort as she quickly realized she was out of her element. “That is a lovely necklace, Lady Proudmoore. Where did you get it?”

 

_“Oh, daughter of mine?”_

 

_Young Jaina rounded the corner of the hall, bracing her hands on the strong wooden bannister. A broad smile spread across her features at the sight of her father standing, hat in hand, in the grand foyer of Proudmoore Keep. “Papa!”_

 

_Daelin held his arms out, welcoming his daughter’s rush to embrace him. “There she is.”_

 

_Jaina pulled away, looking up at the man in astonishment. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be back for another three days?”_

 

_“The Tides were kind to bring me home to you, Jaina.” He grinned mischievously. “But there’s more. I have a gift for you.” Reaching into a pouch on his hip, he offered a pristine silver pendant molded into the shape of an anchor, a same-colored chain thread through the shackle. “Fitting of the Daughter of the Sea.”_

 

_Jaina gasped, feeling drawn to the necklace as soon as she touched it. She smiled as she clasped the chain around her neck, letting the pendant settle with a comfortable chill over her sternum. “Thank you, Papa.”_

 

Jaina blinked, glancing down at the question and the memory it invoked. “My father gave it to me as a gift when I was young,” she said, confusion thick in her tone. “Why?”

 

“May I see it?”

 

Jaina narrowed her eyes, clasping the pendant in her hand. “... how about for trade? I’ll let you examine it if you answer my questions.”

 

Sanguinar raised a brow, ears twitching backward. “That depends on your questions. A mild curiosity of mine may not be worth the knowledge you seek.”

 

“Alright,” Jaina agreed, feeling more stable in the dynamic of their conversation now that she had something the Blood Elf wanted. She chose her questions carefully, betting on the value of her necklace versus information she needed. “Has _The Banshee's Wail_ been to Fen'harel recently? Would you know where she might be headed?"

 

"Perhaps," Sanguinar replied. "I do not make it a point to know the names of every ship in my harbor. Perhaps you should try Booty Bay? The goblins have always been more forgiving of piracy."

 

Jaina narrowed her eyes at the woman's frustrating non-answer. "Surely you would make note of a ship needing repairs from cannonfire?" she pressed further.

 

"There was a merchant vessel that came in two weeks ago needing repairs. Her captain assured me that they had a run in with pirates but were able to outrun them."

 

Jaina tensed. "Is this _merchant vessel_ still in port?"

 

The Blood Elf's ears tilted forward slightly. "They were planning on setting off today."

 

Jaina stood. "Of course. If you would excuse me."

 

"Ah-ah," the woman cautioned, raising her right hand. "Payment."

 

Jaina frowned, hesitating briefly before walking around the table as her hands raised to unclasp her necklace. She begrudgingly handed it over, watching the other woman carefully.

 

Sanguinar looked over the anchor pendant, rotating it in her hands. It could have been a trick of the light, but Jaina swore she saw green-blue eyes glow. " _I_ _shnu_ ," the woman uttered softly, her ears perking upright.

 

Jaina cleared her throat impatiently after a minute, causing the elf to return the necklace. "Satisfied?" she asked as she clasped the pendant around her neck once more.

 

The Blood Elf fixed the Grand Admiral with an insightful stare. "You have her frightened, you realize?"

 

"I should hope so. I represent the force of the Kul Tiran navy, and through that, the might of the Alliance compact. We have no tolerance for piracy in our waters."

 

Sanguinar laughed. "Oh, no, militaries do not scare the Banshee Queen." The tips of her ears bent upward. "She led Azeroth's finest once."

 

Jaina's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

 

Sanguinar leaned back in her seat, clasping her hands over her knee with a satisfied smirk. "Sylvanas Windrunner is her name, before she took her title. Once upon a time, that name garnered respect in Quel'thalas. She served as Silvermoon's Ranger General, an equal position to your own, for nearly a century. I do not know why she was banished from our homeland, as I was already here in Fen'harel when her crimes were committed. But you should use caution. This is no mere pirate; this is a woman who has studied the art of war since before your great grandfather was born."

 

Jaina blinked, frowning slightly at the implications. She gave the woman a curt nod. "Thank you for the information, my lady."

 

The Blood Elf smiled after her as Jaina left. It was only after she made it back to her ship that she remembered she intended to ask about that word. _Medivh._

 

\---

 

Sylvanas watched as a certain white-haired woman walked purposefully down the dock across the harbor. Standing on the quarterdeck with her officers, she saw a clear image of the rest of the docks, including the _Tempest_ just across the water. With a slight bend in her right ear, she turned her attention to her helmsman. “How quickly can you bring us to the reefs?” 

 

“Just about a day, Queen, if this wind keeps up on open water.”

 

Sylvanas turned toward Nathanos. “Organize a seamless rotation of duties for the next twenty four hours in eight hour shifts. Pick your boarding party now, and have them work the first cycle. Velonara and I will exchange on navigation.”

 

The man bowed, causing all three sets of elven ears to cant backward in distaste. “Yes, my Queen.” 

 

“Anya.” Sylvanas turned towards her master gunner. “Prepare two canons for carcass shot. We aim to sink the Kul Tiran outright.” She glanced back towards Nathanos. “No prisoners.”

 

Both of her officers nodded in agreement as she looked across the harbor at the enemy. Sylvanas knew her timing would need to be impeccable to catch the Grand Admiral in her trap. Leave too soon, and the _Tempest_ would stay in port, wasting the opportunity Valeera granted her. Conversely, leave too late, and they may find themselves in a firefight before they reached their chosen battlefield, or even worse, they would force a confrontation too close to Fen’harel and the Blood Elf would turn on them to save her own skin.

 

Sylvanas’s eyes narrowed, watching her adversary stalk across the main deck of the _Tempest_ before disappearing into the hold below. She had no guarantee that Sanguinar had even played along with her plan, but she didn’t have the time to hesitate. 

 

Steely eyes turned toward the surrounding officers. “Dismissed.” 

 

“Yes, my Queen,” Nathanos bowed once more before stepping away. Anya hesitated briefly, shooting an imploring look in their captain’s direction, only to be answered with a glare. She grunted an acknowledgement as she departed.

 

Sylvanas sighed heavily as she turned back to the ship across the harbor. Once, her patience before battle had been uncanny, waiting days or even weeks for the perfect opportunity to strike. Now, however, the former Ranger General felt restlessness prickle under her skin, willing her to force the inevitable. Her hands twitched at her sides before she clenched them into fists with a soft growl.

 

 _“General?”_ Velonara asked softly, the only officer remaining.

 

 _“It’s **nothing**_ ,” Sylvanas snapped, ears pinned back like an agitated feline. Her helmsman blinked before bowing her head and retreating to the wheelhouse, leaving the irritated woman alone.

 

_Pain. Searing, coiling, rending pain coursed through her body, sinking its claws into every fiber of every muscle and tearing mercilessly. Sylvanas tried to scream, only to find her very lungs betrayed her, stiff as the stones she laid upon. Something caught within her brain, a clearly defined purpose that crystalized into false reality, the image of a decimated battlefield littered with green and blue skinned, lanky corpses. Blood soaked earth squelched beneath her feet, the foul scent of decay rolling over the scene like a hazy mist. Searching the desecrated field of death, she saw not only the hulking bodies of her foes, but smaller ones, as well. Some were barely taller than Vereesa…_

 

_“NO! THIS IS NOT WHAT I WANT!” Sylvanas screamed soundlessly, and the pain multiplied, chasing the image from her mind with blotches of red and black. She curled in on herself, clutching her ears with her hands as a screech echoed around her. Her chest ached, waves of pulsating heat radiating to the rhythm of her heartbeat._

 

_“General?!” Sylvanas barely heard her lieutenant’s startled cry past the ringing of her ears. She let out a soft whimper as hands grasped her shoulders, under her pauldrons. “Anya! Get over here, help me carry her!”_

 

 _“How did she make that_ **_sound_** **,** _Vel?” Sylvanas twitched and spasmed away from soothing yet forceful hands before she felt the ground fall away from her._

 

_“I… don’t know, heart. I don’t know.”_

 

Sylvanas gritted her teeth through a wave of pain originating from her chest, fighting back the urge to press her hand to the mark carefully hidden by her attire. Pushing away thoughts of the past, she prowled to the wheelhouse, ignoring Velonara’s look of concern. “Let’s get moving.”

 

\---

 

Jaina sighed heavily as she entered the mess, too preoccupied with her own thoughts to be thankful for its vacant state.

 

“How did it go?” Modera didn’t look up from her task, butchering slabs of fresh meat to be cured in a bed of salt in order to preserve it for their next voyage.

 

“Enlightening.” Jaina plucked an apple from a nearby barrel, taking a thoughtful bite of the ripe flesh as she leaned against the bulkhead. “The Blood Elf was… mostly cooperative, once fair trade for her information was established.”

 

“Oh?” Modera glanced up with a raised brow. “Which was?”

 

Jaina’s brow furrowed. “She wanted to see Father’s necklace, of all things.” Her hand rose to clasp the object in question. “She seemed… surprised by it, somehow. I thought it was just a souvenir from one of his cruises, maybe to Stormwind. Do you know anything about it?”

 

Modera shook her head gently. “No, I can’t say I do. Didn’t your father give that to you before his final voyage?” Jaina frowned in thought as she took another bite from the fruit in her hand, nodding offhand in response. Modera raised a brow at the silent reply, before continuing her task at the cutting board. “So, did we come to the right place?” she prodded.

 

“Yes,” Jaina hummed, releasing the necklace. “I mean, the Blood Elf wouldn’t outright say _The Banshee’s Wail_ was in port, but there’s a merchant vessel that moored here two weeks ago for repairs from canon fire. I’ll be looking over the dockmaster’s books in an hour.”

 

Modera nodded as she finished portioning out the slab of meat she had been working on, stowing the pieces in a tray of salt. “That’s good news, then. Hopefully we'll have them all in irons enroute to Gilneas with the morning. I know King Greymane would be pleased." She brushed her hands off on her apron, before untying it and hanging it on a hook beside the counter. "I was going to go topside for some fresh air once I finished. Would you like to join me, Grand Admiral?"

 

Jaina smirked at her friend. "You know I still hate that title. Derek is Grand Admiral, not me." She pushed off the wall and joined Modera, walking through the passageways and up onto the main deck.

 

"Of course," Modera replied with a sly tone, coming to a halt off the portside shroud. "Either way, were you able to get a straight answer about that elvish word?"

 

Jaina frowned. "Would you believe I forgot to ask?" she muttered dejectedly, taking another bite of her apple as she looked across the dock. _Wait… why does that ship look familiar?_

 

Modera's response was lost on her as she narrowed her eyes at the brigantine slowly making its way out of the harbor. While it flew the standard merchant colors of the region, something about it looked eerily familiar. The port bays were shaped wrong… as if they were _gunports_.

 

"All hands!" Jaina called, cutting off her companion as she spun on her heels to address her crew. "Hoist the anchor! Get after that ship!"

 

She turned back to the fleeing vessel, catching a glimpse of a pale blonde on its quarterdeck with long, pointed ears.

  



	5. The Gales of Nazjatar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Rae D Magdon for beta-ing this chapter

Jaina grimaced at dark clouds blanketing the horizon a few miles ahead of her quarry. She didn't like the idea of the chase leading directly into a storm, but her determination to see the pirates of  _ The Banshee's Wail _ brought to justice outweighed her sailor's intuition. They had been on the brigantine's tail for over twenty hours since leaving Fen'harel, and the anticipation of catching the pirates left the air charged with anxiety. Everytime the  _ Tempest _ drew close enough for a shot from her bow chasers,  _ The Banshee's Wail _ would catch a favorable wind or current and pull out of range.

 

Jaina grumbled in frustration. Nature itself seemed to aid the pirates, keeping them out of her grasp. The Grand Admiral rarely subscribed to the superstitions of common sailors, but she had to admit the circumstances were almost too fortuitous. Did the Banshee Queen have some kind of unnatural power that led to her evading capture? She shook her head.  _ Of course not. Magic only exists in bedtime stories, Jaina. _

 

A flashing line of lightning snapped down from the heavens ahead of them, followed by the cacophonous crack of thunder shaking the deck beneath Jaina’s feet. Her grip on the wheel tightened, nearly imperceptible burrs of the worked wood pressing into her palms. The wind began to pick up in their favor, whipping the trailing edges of her overcoat around her legs. If Jaina were one for theatrics, she would have taken amusement in how the storm seemed to match her grim determination.

 

As it was, she hardly noted the approaching crewman’s pause at the sight as he clambered up the steps to the wheelhouse. “Captain! It’s gonna be hard to keep up in that storm. We should batten down, weather it out.”

 

Jaina narrowed her eyes at her first mate, a stout Kul Tiran man who had served under her father. She knew Cyrus was right, waiting for the storm to pass before taking up the chase once more was the sensible option, but something clenched in her chest. She  _ needed _ to catch that ship as much as she needed to breathe. “We can handle it,” she assured, confidence tempering her tone.

 

Cyrus stiffened, his disagreement more than apparent to Jaina. “I don’t trust those clouds, Grand Admiral,” the man muttered.

 

“I don’t give a horse’s ass what you trust, crewman,” Jaina growled with a ferocity that startled even herself. “We can’t risk losing the Banshee’s trail, so we’ll follow her straight into the depths if we must, but I  _ will not _ slow this ship down. Understood?”

 

Cyrus remained motionless for a few beats at the bite in her tone before offering a curt nod in agreement. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

Jaina felt a hint of remorse at how she snapped at her mate. Truthfully, the Grand Admiral tried to foster an environment of collaboration, especially on her own ship. She valued independent thought, and saw her crew’s ideas as a boon, not insubordinate like many other captains or officers. In some attempt to compromise, she softened her tone, “Have the quartermaster secure the lower decks, and prepare lifelines to the masts. This isn’t going to be easy.”

 

“Yes, ma’am," Cyrus replied stiffly, telling Jaina she would still have to make up for her earlier vitriol with him later before hurrying off to obey orders.

 

Jaina sighed, rubbing the back of her neck as she set her eyes back on the brigantine ahead of them. There was always a possibility that the pirates would hoist their sails and ride out the storm, though something about her brief encounter with their captain told Jaina that wouldn’t be the case. 

 

A woman with a history in military strategy. The thought worried the Grand Admiral, considering how set in her course  _ The Banshee’s Wail _ had been since Fen’harel. While she couldn’t rule out the possibility that the Banshee Queen’s flight came from pure desperation to escape, Jaina found it odd that the pirates would lead her into open water. Perhaps they had a nest somewhere in the reefs of Nazjatar - the only notable feature in the direction they were heading - but it seemed unlikely that a master strategist would lead her foes directly to her den.

 

A sickening wave of uncertainty overcame Jaina as she considered the chances of Sylvanas Windrunner baiting her into a trap. But what other choice did she have? If she broke off of the Banshee's tail, she would have no other means to track her down, short of waiting for the pirate's next raid. Jaina despised the idea of letting more innocents suffer when she had the means to prevent it ahead of time.

 

No, she had no other choice but to sail into the maw of the beast, regardless of the nagging feeling that a rug was about to be pulled out from under her feet. As much as it churned her stomach and prickled her skin, Jaina could only hope anticipating a trap would prove enough to avoid disaster.

 

\---

 

Sylvanas hissed as a wave of pain radiated from the mark on her chest, causing her to press her hand against her bare skin in an attempt to soothe the burn. The frequency of her  _ affliction’s _ episodes had increased significantly since leaving Fen’harel and it concerned her. While the subtle ache of a heavy weight pressed against her constantly, it rarely surpassed minor discomfort. However, it periodically felt as though a hand clenched around her heart in an attempt to squeeze the very life out of her, threatening her ability to function. And the time between spells of agony had shortened the closer they drew to Nazjatar.

 

Sylvanas’s attempts at rest between her shifts with Velonara proved fruitless due to this fact. On top of brief bursts of torment, the constant rocking of choppy waves made it difficult to find a comfortable position for reverie, and sleep, as always, proved less than ideal. Images of massacre and bloodshed plagued her dreams, contributing to the clench of ice around her heart. The looming anticipation of combat awakened urges she had done her best to bury over the decades and threatened her impressive self-control.

 

Sylvanas peered around her cabin with narrowed eyes, ears pinned back in exhausted agitation. Her gaze settled on the bow tied to a hook through the bulkhead in order to secure it during rough seas. Talah'ental, a gift from that insolent  _ leader _ of Fen'harel, was crafted from smuggled Thalassian lumber, imbued with the natural magic of Quel'thalas. While it paled in comparison to Thas'dorah, the ancestral bow of the Windrunner clan, it sung in her hands far better than any clumsily crafted  _ human _ weapon could.

 

Sylvanas rarely wielded a bow anymore, with combat at sea favoring firearms over more civilized forms of ranged combat, but she kept the weapon with the hope it would see use once again. For now, she rose from her cot, closing the distance to the opposite wall and stroking the tips of her fingers across the finished surface of the bow. The diminutive coil of arcane residing in the wood washed over her like a breath of fresh forest air, calming the burning ache in her chest.

 

Taking a deep breath, Sylvanas turned away from the mounted bow and approached her wardrobe. Through the small portholes dotting her cabin, she saw the dull gray of a sky covered in heavy storm clouds, leading her to select a full length tunic instead of one of her cropped alternatives. She donned the garment along with fresh breeches, leaving the laces of her shirt loose. Eyeing the bow as she stepped into her boots, her lips pursed in consideration. Keeping the bow on her person calmed her old wound, but it also raised suspicion amongst her crew, especially Anya and Velonara. She did not want to speak to them about the increasing frequency of aches, nor face their pity at her condition.

 

Another wave of pain wracked her body, her eyes squinting and ears trembling as a quiet gasp escaped her lips, making the decision for her. Once she recovered, Sylvanas untied the knots securing the weapon to the wall, retrieving Talah’ental and then its bowstring from a drawer in her wardrobe. She strung the bow in short order, finding a measure of peace in familiar movements, before she slung the weapon over her left shoulder.

 

Exiting her cabin, Sylvanas attempted to press the question of the cause of her worsening condition out of her mind, concerning herself with the more present danger of the Kul Tiran galleon on their tail. Heavy raindrops and chaotic seaspray greeted her as she emerged from the hold below deck, quickly soaking through her attire. She thanked her own foresight to select a darker tunic that still kept her mark hidden when wet as she stalked up to the wheelhouse where her helmsman looked absolutely miserable.

 

“You’re early, Queen,” Velonara remarked, attention focused on the churning waters surrounding  _ The Banshee’s Wail _ . “Not that I’m complaining.”

 

Sylvanas entertained the idea of admitting her inability to rest to her lieutenant, but decided against it as she observed the galleon off their stern. The  _ Tempest _ stayed just barely out of range, as it had been throughout the day. “Report?”

 

“We’re roughly an hour from the edge of the reefs. Winds and currents have been more accommodating than I expected, but we entered a storm front twenty minutes ago, and so far, it isn’t looking promising.”

 

Sylvanas frowned deeply, her eyes flicking up towards the skies, surveying the weather surrounding them. Dark grey clouds loomed around them, thick enough to give the appearance of night over the water. Even this far from the bulk of the storm, the waves crashed against the hull, spraying over anyone on deck, including herself. Velonara didn’t need to voice her advice as the Banshee Queen came to the same conclusion. If they did not turn back the way they came, they would be at tremendous risk, either of capsizing under the force of the waves, or running blind into the reefs and shearing their hull.

 

Unfortunately, with a fully equipped Kul Tiran galleon captained by the Grand Admiral herself hot on their heels, turning around was  _ not _ an option.

 

“Has there been any sign of the  _ Tempest _ heaving to?” Sylvanas asked as she turned her attention back toward the ship behind them.

 

“None. She’s kept on our course with no sign of self-preservation.” Velonara’s ears flicked irritably as she glanced over to Sylvanas. Her eyes widened, spotting the bow on her captain’s shoulder, but she recovered quickly from her surprise, continuing with her original statement. “You have to admire her determination, if nothing else.”

 

Sylvanas nodded before a shock of lightning snapped into the water less than a mile off their portside, startling both her and her helmsman. Seconds later, the ship lurched violently. “ _ Fuck!” _ Velonara exclaimed as the wheel spun wildly, dislodging her grip. The woman seized a rung with a grunt, hauling  _ The Banshee’s Wail _ back into line as Sylvanas watched, steadying herself on the railing. “I’m not going to be able to navigate this safely. My eyes can’t be looking for reefs  _ and _ waves, Queen.”

 

Sylvanas gritted her teeth, nodding her understanding as she looked back at their pursuers. Of course, her carefully laid trap had turned on her. She wasn’t surprised, considering magic’s involvement in the situation, but it still proved irritating to no end. “Lock us into the safest course. Hopefully we can ride through the storm before the Kul Tiran’s upon us.”

 

“Yes, Queen.” Velonara nodded, muscles visibly straining against the drift of the ship as they were tossed around by the waves.

 

Sylvanas hurried down from the quarterdeck, pausing briefly as a swell crashed over the deck, soaking her through to the bone. With an uncomfortable shudder, she pressed on, steadying herself with grips on railings and rigging whenever she could. She found Nathanos near the forecastle and she grabbed his shoulder to garner his attention. “Hoist the storm sails, then get everyone below!” she called over the roaring winds.

 

“Of course, my Queen!”

 

Sylvanas staggered her way to the main hatch, lifting it just enough to slip into the gun deck below. The canons had been prepared for combat since they left Fen’harel, the portbays left open to allow for a faster response to battle, but now that fact proved troublesome. “Anya!” she called down the corridor.

 

“Yes, Queen?” Anya’s head popped out from behind one of the guns as she began to roll a powder keg away from the portbays, where it risked getting wet during a storm.

 

“I need these portbays sealed, post haste. Is Lillian in the hold?”

 

“I believe so. Either that, or quarters.”

 

Sylvanas nodded curtly, brushing past her master gunner as she retreated further below deck, into the crew’s quarters. “Voss!”

 

“Yes’um?” Her quartermaster, a rather young woman hailing from Lordaeron, rolled out of her hammock with a frown. “My rotation’s in another four hours.”

 

“We need the storm sails topside, now,” Sylvanas growled. “Assist me.”

 

Lilian groaned as she stood. “Don’t know why you need-” Her words cut off with a startled yelp as everything shifted wildly, tossing both women into other hammocks. Sylvanas managed to tuck with her momentum, regaining her footing with a grunt. However, as she looked for her quartermaster around the darkened hold, she spied the woman wrapped in three separate hammocks, clawing at the netting to no effect.

 

Sylvanas resisted the urge to scream at the added inconvenience as she came to her crewman’s aid. “As you can  _ see _ , the storm is rather fierce.”

 

“Yeah, no shit,” Lilian huffed, scrambling with the rope-based sleeping arrangements before holding her hands up in exasperation. “Fuck it, just cut me out.”

 

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes. “With unsteady waves, I’m liable to cut  _ you _ . It would save me the trouble of flogging you for your insolence later, however, I need you at your best, given the circumstances.”

 

“Cap’n, I know you’re scary and shit, but do we really have the time for threats, or should you just cut me loose?”

 

Sylvanas drew her dagger from her boot with a low growl, setting to work sawing away at the ropes trapping her quartermaster as her ears flicked back. She wondered why she hadn’t replaced the cheeky member of her crew yet as footsteps heralded Anya’s descent into the hold. “Ports are sealed, Queen.”

 

“Excellent.” Sylvanas sheathed her blade after cutting a sufficient hole in the netting, standing to address her master gunner and leaving Lilian to extract herself. "We'll batten down the hatches-" Another wave crashed into the vessel, causing  _ The Banshee's Wail  _ to list dangerously to port. She braced herself against a post, ears pinning back as she looked upward.  _ Come on, Velonara… Straighten us out... _

 

For a brief moment, it appeared as though the ship would right itself, until the floor beneath them lurched even harder, sending the three sailors flying. Sylvanas slammed into the bulkhead, ears twitching as she heard her companions' pained grunts nearby. Lilian grabbed her by the arm and yanked her quickly to the side just as a crate crashed into where she had been. Gravity continued to shift, causing all three to roll down the bulkhead, coming to a rest sprawled out across the former ceiling.

 

"What the  _ fuck _ just happened?" Anya hissed somewhere to her left, though the slight quiver of her voice told Sylvanas more than enough about the fear her gunner felt concerning the logical answer.

 

"Well," Lilian groaned from her right. "I'm pretty fucking sure we just capsized. Thought that was bloody obvious."

 

Sylvanas met her former lieutenant's glowing gaze. She couldn't recall a time she had seen Anya so terrified.

 

\---

 

"Get those sails hoisted!" Jaina screamed above the crashing waves, hands tight on the wheel. She spotted an oncoming breaker and quickly steered the  _ Tempest _ into the proper angle to climb it. She couldn't see the pirate ship past the swells currently, but her primary concern at the moment was piloting her way through the storm. She had to trust she would be able to stay on the trail after the weather cleared.

 

"Get your lifelines cinched!" She heard her first mate cry out from somewhere on the main deck. The rain poured down so fierce, she could only make out hazy silhouettes of various crewmen frantically trying to complete their tasks. She regretted not having a lifeline herself, but acting quickly, she used her right hand to unclasp her belt and loop it through the spokes of the wheel. It wasn't much, but it would have to suffice for the time being.

 

Jaina held her breath as they climbed the massive wave, every muscle clenching at the backward tilt of the ship. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the  _ Tempest _ dipped forward, cresting the top of the wave, though they were hardly safe yet. She nearly missed the sign of the following wave, but a shock of lightning flickered light over its leading edge, causing the Grand Admiral to haul the wheel to the right in an attempt to claim the correct angle for the second wave. It struck the bow hard, lurching the whole ship to port, listing dangerously before they successfully cleared it.  _ Tides, that was too close. _

 

Jaina squinted across the water, searching for the next swell. Instead, her eyes fell on a gloomy shape in the water, the keel of  _ The Banshee's Wail.  _ She shook her head with gritted teeth. They were pirates, of course, but she wouldn't wish drowning in a sea storm on even her worst enemy. “Tides welcome you,” she muttered grimly, though she couldn’t even hear it herself over the storm. 

 

“Shit!” She spotted the next wave approaching, reeling to the left this time for the proper angle. Every hair stood on end as the  _ Tempest _ turned slowly. 

 

_ Crack! _

 

The wheel suddenly gave under her weight, spinning counter-clockwise with no resistance, twisting Jaina’s belt tightly around her waist as her blood ran cold. Her heart raced as tendrils of terror threatened to grasp her throat and steal her breath. The sound of wood splintering, along with the wheel going slack only meant one thing.

 

“We lost our rudder!” Jaina howled into the storm, hoping the majority of her crewmen on deck heard her. Willing herself to remain calm, she drew a dagger from her hip, slipping the blade between the leather of her belt and her skin, sawing away at her makeshift lifeline. Seconds passed, her mind flicking through potential orders as she frantically drew the knife back and forth through the material, using her left hand to keep the wheel from spinning and making her situation worse. She could order an abandon ship, but the lifeboats wouldn’t fare much better in the storm than the  _ Tempest _ , especially laden with her men. However, battening down and praying seemed like an even worse option, increasing their risk of capsizing along with the pirates. 

 

Jaina worried at her lip as the belt finally snapped. As if the strip of leather held some special insight, a thought sprang to her mind as she raced toward the main deck in search of her first mate. Even with her sure steps, she nearly slipped on the sea-soaked planks, catching herself on a piece of rigging near the man. “Cyrus, get a drogue rigged! Now!”

 

“What?!” Her first mate shot her an incredulous look. "How in the Tides is that going to help?"

 

"I don't have time to explain fully, but it should allow us some steering and slow us down enough to brave the breakers," Jaina rattled off as she followed the rigging in her hands toward the hold. "You just have to  _ trust _ me."

 

Cyrus's eyes widened as he spotted her lack of a lifeline. "Girl, you are  _ crazy _ !"

 

She grinned wildly back at him, wind whipping her hair around her face in a display that must have proven his point, judging by his answering expression. "Daughter of the Sea, right, Cyrus?" She didn't wait for his response, set on her mission to retrieve any extra chain and rigging she could find.

 

Jaina didn't make it to the hatch, as another colossal wave crashed over the deck. She grappled in vain as the force of the water swept her legs out from under her, unable to catch a grip on any ropes or rails. She felt the solidity of the deck slide out from beneath her before saltwater rushed down her mouth and nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drogue: basically a parachute like device dragged behind a ship to slow it down, but can be used for jury-rigged steering in emergencies


	6. Dire Straits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-ed by the lovely Rae D Magdon, once again.
> 
> Thank you :)

Black, murky water obscured Jaina’s vision as the currents spun her around below the surface. She clenched her eyes shut, fighting the urge to flounder, and attempted to calm herself. Her lungs burned for air, stomach contracting as her diaphragm tried to overrule her mind and she pinched her nose to prevent herself from inhaling seawater. _Surface first, Jaina_.

 

She opened her eyes, squinting into the hazy gloom of the sea. Turning slowly, she searched for signs of the surface. Her attempt proved fruitless. In a stroke of brilliance, she lifted her necklace from under her clothing, holding it out just within her field of vision. She let it go, floating in front of her, before it shifted slowly to her left. She darted off in that direction, hoping her theory was correct. Otherwise, she was about to waste what little air she had left in her lungs swimming in the wrong direction.

 

Jaina’s arms felt like lead as she dragged them outward with each stroke, parting the water ahead as her legs propelled her forward. Her muscles tightened with exertion even as adrenaline flooded her system with new vigor. Determination and the indomitable will to _survive_ pushed past the barriers of discomfort, pain, and fear, driving her for what seemed like an eternity before she finally breached the surface with a hungry gasp.

 

Her joy at her success was short lived. Jaina looked around with dismay between gasping breaths, legs kicking continuously to keep her afloat. Endless dark water stretched out around her, the _Tempest_ nowhere in sight. Fighting the urge to panic, she shed her heavy overcoat and leaned back, letting her natural buoyancy keep her afloat for the moment. She thanked the Tides at least the waves weren’t dragging her under again.

 

After she steadied her breath, her first priority was finding a way out of the water. Jaina couldn’t keep herself afloat indefinitely, not to mention the risks of prolonged exposure. Or carnivorous creatures in the sea. Staring up at the sky, she noticed the clouds were beginning to clear, breaking for the starry twilight. Her gaze fell on three stars in a line, the tail end of a constellation. _The Eastern Rose_ , Jaina thought to herself with a tired smile.

 

The Grand Admiral played back the earlier events aboard the _Tempest_ , trying determine whereabouts the pirate wreckage was in relation to her position. Calculating a course, Jaina swam slowly on her back, bending her legs up and outward before snapping them back together in tandem with her arms sweeping in a wide arc from over head to her sides to glide across the surface with minimal effort. She had no way of knowing how far she traveled, nor for how long, though it must have been at least an hour as the waves finally calmed and the clouds fully cleared above her.

 

Her hand struck something solid, leading Jaina to roll onto her stomach to identify the foreign object. With a hysterical bark of laughter, she realized she had found precisely what she needed: a lifeboat. Her muscles screamed from the exertion, but she was able to haul herself and her waterlogged clothing into the small dinghy, falling onto her back against its belly. Her heart galloped in her ears even as her lungs sucked in deep breaths, but relief washed over her. She was safe. For now.

 

\---

 

Sylvanas pushed past the immediate thoughts of her crew's predicament above aside in lieu of focusing on Anya, Lilian, and her own as she looked around the dim hold. “Quartermaster, light?” While all elves spoke of having better vision in the dark, partially due to catching the reflecting glow of their own eyes, the former crew’s quarters were cloaked in an oppressive gloom that left even her relatively blind.

 

“What am I, a fucking magician?” Lilian grumbled from her right, followed by the sounds of shifting crates and debris. After a few tense seconds, a few sparks of a flint flashed. The wick of a lamp caught, illuminating the area in a dull yellow glow.

 

The hold itself was wrecked, hammocks tangled within one another, crates and chests that served as storage for the crew thrown into the bulkheads, splintered wood and shattered glass littering the floor. Even the bulb of the lamp Lilian held aloft had been broken. The quartermaster held it with care to ensure the exposed flame did not spread to anything flammable.

 

The sight might have rattled a lesser woman, but Sylvanas took it in stride as she pulled herself to her feet. The only thing saving the three of them from a watery grave was the limited air pocket they found themselves trapped in. Air that was being spent, both for light and their collective breaths. She had no time to waste.

 

“We need to cut through the hull,” Sylvanas stated, scanning the debris. “Anya, help me search the chests. Voss, see if you can get into the cargo hold and find something useful.”

 

“Aye, Cap’n.” Lilian grunted as she hauled herself to her feet, passing off the lantern to Sylvanas before making her way to the back of the crew’s quarters, where a hatch led to the cargo hold. 

 

Sylvanas set to work scouring the various crates for a few moments before her ears flicked at the lack of noise coming from her master gunner. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing the other elf still sprawled on the floor, staring ahead. “Anya?” The former ranger gave no response, settled in deathly stillness as even her ears froze back in a cant of sorrow. 

 

_Doe-like, brown eyes stared back at her in abject horror. Sylvanas frowned, hiding her wince at the lingering ache in her chest that came with the use of her tainted power as she approached the human. Various bits of armor and weapons scattered the clearing around them, the bandits that had owned them having been reduced to ash at the power of her cursed scream._

 

_The girl - the former Ranger-General assumed the human was barely an adult - flinched away from her approach, scrambling back against a tree. Sylvanas's ears wilted in concern as her brow furrowed. She had yet to learn the rough language that was spoken by the rest of Azeroth, save a few basic phrases. "Safe," she spoke as calm as she could, though the ethereal echoes of her wail still lingered on her voice._

 

_The girl yelped as the elf tried to reach out and comfort her, leaning away from the outstretched hand as if it would burn her. The rejection stung Sylvanas. She was a protector of innocents, yet now, she was shunned for her means of protecting. Gritting her teeth to keep her expression passive, she watched the human carefully as she reached into a pouch on her hip. Producing a strip of smoked venison, the elf offered it over to the terrified girl._

 

_Tense seconds passed before Sylvanas's brow furrowed. The human was petrified in the presence of her savior, simply because she could not understand the source of the elf's power. Placing the jerky on the girl's thigh, Sylvanas stood and began to leave. Her ears flicked as she caught a quivering word from the girl's lips. "Banshee."_

 

Sylvanas frowned, pushing away the unpleasant memory as she hung the handle of the lantern on one of the hooks on the support posts of the chamber. Her lieutenant knew what she was and would not rebuke her for it, she knew, considering the ample chances both Anya and Velonara had to abandon her. She crouched in front of her master gunner. _“Look at me, ranger.”_

 

Pale blue eyes glinting with unshed tears snapped to her own. Sylvanas recognized the hurt, pleading nature of emotion settled in her friend, and it drove her to place her right hand on Anya’s shoulder. _“She’s not dead until we find a body, Anya. Regardless, you can do nothing for her by allowing yourself to be seized by fear.”_ She could see her words were helping, albeit slower than she could allow, so she hardened her sympathetic gaze to one of stern command. _“Your General needs you, ranger.”_

 

Anya’s jaw clenched as her ears flicked forward. Taking a deep breath, the master gunner gave a curt nod. _“Yes, General.”_

 

 _“Good.”_ Sylvanas stood, offering her hand. _“On your feet. We have digging to do.”_

 

Anya’s hand wrapped around her forearm, and Sylvanas hoisted her companion up before turning to continue her search. She spotted Lillian staring at them across the chamber.

 

“What?” the quartermaster huffed when Sylvanas met her gaze with a glare. “It’s fucking weird when you elfies talk like that. It’s too pretty.”

 

 _“Your face would be too pretty with my fist in it, short-ear,”_ Anya grumbled under her breath, causing Sylvanas’s left ear to flick in amusement.

 

“Yeah, love you, too, buddy,” Lilian responded with a shake of her head, turning her attention back to finding a way to open the hatch to the cargo hold.

 

Sylvanas set back to work on her task, sorting through the wreckage of the crew’s chambers. Most crates or chests contained little more than her crew’s personal effects, clothing, various trophies of victory or sentimental items from homes long since abandoned. She thanked herself in hindsight for not allowing standard crewmen to lock their belongings, meaning she had free access to most of the crates, save for Anya and Velonara’s shared belongings, which the master gunner would have already searched if they had anything useful in their current predicament, or Lilian’s, whom she trusted would do the same. 

 

A loud crash, followed by a particularly colorful expletive from the quartermaster caused both elves to look back at Lilian. The human had successfully pried the hatch open, only to have a barrel of gunpowder tumble through the opening, leaking a small mound of the flammable substance on the ground. Lilian stared blankly at the barrel, before frowning deeply in Anya’s direction. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand Light-damned times; use a fucking stopper!”

 

The master gunner’s ears pinned back as she hissed, retort on the tip of her tongue before Sylvanas quieted her with a look. “This might prove useful… Anya, would you be able to rig an explosion powerful enough to rip through the hull? Provide us a means of escape?”

 

“Are you fucking _insane_?” Lilian shouted in disbelief, but Sylvanas ignored her, watching as her master gunner’s brow furrowed in thought. The quartermaster threw her hands up in exasperation at being ignored, grumbling to herself, “Of course, I knew the elfies would be the death of me, with their hare-brained ideas.”

 

“I could do it,” Anya muttered, not meeting her captain’s gaze as she mulled the suggestion over. “... We’d only get one shot at it.”

 

“Hey, Azeroth to the pointy ears?” Lilian strode over to both of them, especially animated in her apparent distress. “Have you considered how a bloody _explosion_ could just cause us to _sink?_ You know, like _ships exploding_ typically do?”

 

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes at the human who was beginning to grate on her nerves once again. “And have you, _kim’zar,_ considered that we haven’t simply drowned because the air trapped in the hold is keeping us afloat? And once we begin trying to cut through the hull, that air will _escape?_ ”

 

The quartermaster blinked, standing silently for a few seconds with her arms hanging loosely at her side before she pressed her lips together and let out a huff in defeat. “Alright, fine. Suppose dying in a fireball would be better than drowning or suffocating.” She leaned against one of the bulkheads as she crossed her arms in a displeased manner.

 

Sylvanas followed Lilian with her glare for a few seconds before turning back to Anya as her master gunner began to walk toward the barrel of powder, standing it up properly and inspecting its remaining contents. “It’s going to take me awhile, Queen,” she commented, glancing up at Sylvanas with a stiff nod. “But I can do it.”

 

“Do it. We have little time to dally.” Sylvanas sighed heavily, peering back at her quartermaster. “Perhaps instead of sulking, Voss, you can aid me in gathering supplies so we might survive beyond our escape.”

 

Lilian clicked her tongue. “Being honest, Cap’n, we’ve got less than a snowball’s chance in hell if there ain’t land nearby. Unless one of the lifeboats came loose and bobbed to the surface, we’re gonna be fucked by exposure in a few hours.” Despite her words of disagreement, the human pushed away from the wall at her back and started sorting through potential supplies alongside Sylvanas. “... I don’t even know what I’m looking for. I’m a sailor; if a ship was gonna wreck with me on it, I kind of just accepted the worst.”

 

“How _human_ of you,” Sylvanas remarked dryly as she began piling larger articles of clothing. “Sources of food that can be kept from getting wet, extra rigging, thin cotton clothing that will dry in the sun to serve for starting a fire… weapons that can be repurposed for hunting or fishing.” She glanced over at a tangled knot of hammocks, before gesturing toward it. “Cut those free.”

 

Lilian shrugged as she moved to do as she was told. “I get the feeling that if I were stranded on a deserted island, I’d want to be with you, Cap’n.”

 

“I have not always been the Banshee Queen, Voss.” Sylvanas shot a smirk in her crewman’s direction, though she offered no further explanation, continuing to collect materials as Anya toiled on securing their collective escape.

 

\---

 

Jaina opened her eyes with a startle, unsure when she had fallen asleep, but judging from the position of the sun high in the sky, it had been hours ago. Groaning, she sat up and assessed her situation. Her lips were already chapped, throat dry to a point of pain, and her stomach decided now would be an appropriate time to remind her that the last meal she’d consumed was an apple early yesterday. She squinted against the bright rays of sun assaulting the water and dinghy, searching the horizon with fleeting hope. Her hand fell to her belt, searching for her spyglass, but found nothing as she remembered severing the garment after getting tangled in the wheel. 

 

Hopelessness set in with the understanding of her predicament. Jaina was well and truly stranded at sea with nothing but the clothes on her back. She groaned again, letting herself fall back into the boat and staring blankly up at the sky. _Was this how Papa felt?_

 

 _“Well, we just have to go_ **_find_ ** _him, then!” Jaina slammed her hands against the dining table, staring daggers across the room at her older brother. His skin was still peeling from exposure, his typically dusty complexion a light pink._

 

_“Jaina,” her mother cautioned softly, causing Jaina to jerk her head toward Katherine. The Proudmoore matriarch rolled her shoulders back, hardening herself to the news of her husband’s loss at sea. There was a suffocating silence between the three Proudmoores until the newly widowed Lord Admiral broke it. “We have no idea where to even begin such a search. We’re fortunate even Derek was found by the Gilnean merchant.”_

 

_“That’s not good enough, Mother!” Jaina shook in anger born from a sense of desperation. She wouldn’t accept her father was dead. She couldn’t._

 

_Before Katherine could respond, Derek looked back at his sister. “Jaina.” She winced at his raspy voice, meeting his imploring gaze. “... Father’s gone. My men and I were stranded for ten days… any longer and we would have starved ourselves.”_

 

_Jaina wanted to shout back, hypothesize on possible means of survival that their father could have found, but she knew her brother was right. Deflating, she sank into a chair, staring at the planks of the floor. Her shoulders slumped, chin quivered and breath seized in a choked sob. Her hand rose to grasp at her chest, palm pressing into the anchor pendant Daelin had given her barely a month ago. The last memory she had with her father._

 

Jaina had unconsciously clutched her necklace as she lost herself in the bitter memory. How would Katherine react now, after losing both Daelin and Derek? What would the Lord Admiral do when her daughter did not return home? As much as her mother loved her, she knew there was nothing Katherine could do. No search party would be sent, even if the _Tempest_ managed to limp her way back home in her crippled state.

 

Unable to simply lay down and die, Jaina gritted her teeth as she hauled herself upright. The pirates had been sailing in this direction for a reason, she knew, and that likely meant there was an island _somewhere_ nearby. Perhaps a few more days of sail away, which meant even longer in the small lifeboat, but she would be damned if she just sat in open water doing nothing. She had no sail, no rudder, not even an oar to speak of, but she would tow the boat _herself_ if that’s what it took.

 

Granted, the current issue was orienting herself. Jaina knew the pirate’s original bearing - it had changed very little since setting off from Fen’harel - but she had no way of knowing precisely where she was in relation to where she had been. With the sun so high, it was impossible to tell east from west, and there were no landmarks visible to the naked eye. Maybe if she could catch a glimpse of the lingering wreckage?

 

It was hopeless, she realized after squinting across the horizon for what felt like an hour. With a heavy sigh, she laid back down, rolling onto her stomach in an attempt to shield her face from the blistering sun. She needed to wait for nightfall, when the stars would light up a map for her in the sky. Then, she could try to move forward.

 

Jaina existed in a half-awake state for a time, not quite asleep, but not fully aware of her surroundings. So when a sound other than her own breathing or the ever present wind of the ocean reached her ears, it took a few seconds for her to register it. Brow furrowed, she pushed herself up to look over the edge of the hull in the direction of the sound.

 

There was someone in the water.

 

Blinking, she scrambled to sit up. The figure was still some distance away, difficult to make out, but it looked like whoever it was, they had found a piece of driftwood to latch on to. “Hey!” Jaina called, waving her arms overhead. “Over here!” It seemed she had been heard as the figure began kicking in her direction, the sounds of splashing causing her to smile.

 

The smile faded, however, once the figure drew closer and Jaina recognized its long ears. _Of course my luck is to be not only stranded, but stranded with a_ **_pirate_** _._ She squared her shoulders as the elf approached, not the Banshee, she noted, since this one’s hair was a darker blond and her eyes were more sapphire than silver.

 

“Halt,” Jaina stated as the elf reached the side of the lifeboat, trying to sound as intimidating as possible. She doubted the pirate had a weapon of her own, but it was a risk she had to consider before letting an enemy join her in her scant safe haven. “How can I trust you?”

 

The elf narrowed her eyes as she gripped the edge of the dinghy. “Truthfully, you can’t.” Her accent was strange to the Grand Admiral’s ears, more airy than anything she had heard before. “All I can tell you is that I am just as desperate to survive as you are _._ ”

 

“If I let you onboard, will you promise not to attack me?”

 

“And if we find rescue, can you assure me my life and freedom?” the elf countered.

 

Jaina pursed her lips as her gaze softened. “I can promise you a fair trial for your crimes, and that any help you give me will be weighed accordingly.”

 

The elf scoffed at the offer, staring up at Jaina with a doubtful expression. They remained in the tense pose across from one another, before the elf’s eyes darted around the small dinghy. “You have no oars.”

 

Jaina nodded. “And you have a piece of driftwood.”

 

A small smirk tugged at the elf’s lips. “Then it seems like we need each other.”

 

“It seems so.”

 

Silence fell once more for a handful of anxiety ridden seconds before the elf nodded. “I swear on Quel’thalas that I will not harm you until we have found a way out of this predicament.”

 

Jaina breathed a sigh of relief as she leaned over and offered the elf her hand. “Then it’s a pleasure to have you onboard.” It was a brief struggle, but with their combined efforts, the pirate-turned-temporary-ally climbed into the dinghy safely. She shifted to the bow of the small craft, watching her companion carefully as the elf leaned against the stern. The woman seemed exhausted. “I’m Jaina, by the way.”

 

Sapphire eyes peered back at her, seeming to scan her for negative intent. “Velonara.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bulkhead - external wall of a ship  
> Kim'zar - Thalassian for short-ear; derogatory term for humans  
> Bow - front of a boat/ship  
> Stern - back of a boat/ship


	7. A Crew of Convenience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much praise to my beta reader Rae D Magdon.
> 
> Here's a slightly early update - just a heads up that school is coming fast, and I've fallen a bit behind my writing schedule, so the next few updates might be a little behind.

“I’m ready, Queen.” Anya met Sylvanas’s gaze with a look of grim determination before nodding upward to the hatch leading to the cargo hold.

 

“Very well,” Sylvanas replied with a curt nod. She turned her gaze back to Lilian. Between the two of them, they had managed to gather enough materials for three makeshift survival kits, wrapped in clothing into a sort of backpack. Each consisted of half a dozen small jars of brined meat, two bottles of ale, two sticks of flint, fifteen meters of rope and two or three articles of loose clothing beyond the shirts used to carry it all. Sylvanas donned her pack before handing the second to Anya as the quartermaster tied her own around her waist and shoulders.

 

The three women made their way into the hold, Lillian and Sylvanas standing back from the small empty space against the hull that Anya had set the powder keg against. A trail of gunpowder led toward them so the master gunner could trigger the detonation from a comparably safe distance.

 

"If I die in this fireball and you elfies don't, I'm haunting you for the rest of your natural lives," Lilian grumbled, grasping the sleeves of her shirt-pack that acted as straps.

 

"You _kim'zarei_ are always cowards," Anya replied as she knelt at the end of the powder trail and produced a flint and knife. Glancing up at Sylvanas, she prepared to light the powder. “Queen?”

 

“Do it.” Sylvanas nodded, her gaze locking on the area of the hull that would soon be blasted open. Anya struck the flint, letting the sparks ignite the gunpowder before standing and stowing her dagger and flint securely. The hissing of the flame traveling along the powder trail was the only noise for a few tense seconds. Sylvanas took a deep breath. _Belore, watch over us…_

 

The keg exploded with a deafening blast. Thanks to Anya’s expertise, the shrapnel shot away from the three pirates. However, shrapnel became the least of their problems as the hole in the hull, barely wide enough for them to squeeze through, allowed the air trapped in the crew’s quarters and hold to escape and water to rush up from below. Streams of light cascaded through the breach, telling the hull was above water. At least for the moment.

 

“Go!” Sylvanas shouted. She shoved Lilian forward first, then Anya, lining herself up to escape last. 

 

Lilian grunted as she started to crawl through the splintered planks. “Fucking shit! My hips ain’t built for this!”

 

Anya pushed the quartermaster from behind as Sylvanas narrowed her eyes at the water rising through the hatch. The extra water caused the ship to sink lower until the hold was flooding from the hole in the hull as well. With a hiss, Lilian managed to make it through. 

 

“ _General?_ ” Anya looked back at Sylvanas, gesturing hurriedly toward the gap.

 

“ _Always goes last except to war, Anya.”_ Sylvanas thrust her crewman through the gap. The water level rose faster, reaching Sylvanas’s hips and forcing her to wade through. Thankfully, Anya had a much slimmer build than Lilian and cleared the opening with no issue. The master gunner turned, offering a hand to her captain.

 

Sylvanas took the offer. Her fingers wrapped around the woman’s forearm in a secure grip as she half climbed, half swam head first through the hole. She made it almost halfway until her lower back scraped against the splintered wood and her bow caught. The hull of _The Banshee’s Wail_ was fully submerged, forcing her to crane her neck back to get a lungful of air before she was dragged under with it. Anya grabbed the edge of the hull breach with her free hand and planted her feet for leverage to haul Sylvanas through. Try as they might, the combined might of the two elves was not enough to free the Banshee Queen.

 

Sylvanas squinted as a thought came to her. She released Anya’s hand, signaling for the master gunner to leave. The other elf hesitated, looking back at her leader in a state of disbelief. Following a pointed glare from the pirate captain, she acquiesced and swam for the surface. Sylvanas closed her eyes, willing herself to relax as she continued to sink with her ship, hoping to conserve as much air as possible while she gained distance from her two crewmen on the surface. She did not want to risk injuring them as well.

 

Pain coiled in her chest like a sinister snake. The magical power she planned to call upon to aid her escape seemed eager to enact the ‘fair trade’ of her curse. Pushing it aside, she focused her intent while summoning forth boiling hatred and rage. Sylvanas had learned that the abilities she had unwittingly gained long ago responded to her emotions, and that anger, more often than not, produced the best result. Drawing on infuriating memories of Sanguinar, the King, and others she felt otherwise slighted by, she released a destructive wail toward her sinking ship.

 

The wood trapping her shattered into pieces. Sylvanas swept her arms downward from over her head, propelling herself to the surface as she cut the wail short. White-hot agony laced through her chest, but she forced through the pain, bobbing to the surface with a gasp. Panting, she looked over at her two companions. Anya’s ears were pulled back, telling the Banshee Queen well enough that the water had not muffled the scream entirely. 

 

Lilian, on the other hand, grinned like a madwoman. “Holy _shit!”_ The quartermaster turned her gaze to her captain. “We’re _alive!”_

 

“For the moment,” Sylvanas replied. She paused to access their situation. There were no signs of the Kul Tiran ship, sunk or not, nor did it seem like there were any land masses within sight. Not that she expected any. “Our situation is still dire, Voss.”

 

“Hey, let me just appreciate my moment of adrenaline, okay, Cap’n?”

 

“Queen.” Sylvanas turned to face Anya, but the elf was squinting into the distance. “ _Can you feel it, General?”_

 

The former Ranger-General followed her lieutenant’s gaze, brow furrowed. She realized Anya must have sensed some sort of magic, to speak in their mother tongue with Lilian beside them. Her own arcane sense was still reeling from her own power, obstructing her ability to notice what the master gunner had. She shook her head. “What is it, Anya?”

 

“Magic.” The master gunner’s eyes flicked toward Sylvanas. “A lot of it.”

 

Lilian snorted. “Now, hold on… did you hit your head coming up? Everyone knows magic is just a fairytale thing, stories told to kiddos to get them to shut up and go to sleep.”

 

“Silence, Voss.” Sylvanas shifted nearer to Anya. “ _Not the Kul Tiran? Not myself?”_  

 

Her master gunner nodded, eyes locked on the horizon.

 

Sylvanas’s nostrils flared as her ears canted backward. She did not trust magic. Not even her own. But, desperate times called for desperate measures. “Come… let us investigate.”

 

\---

 

“So,” Jaina began after the drawn out silence between herself and her new companion became too much for her to bear. “Do you know where you were headed? Is there land nearby?”

 

The elf, who hadn’t moved from the stern since climbing aboard, shook her head. “No.”

 

Jaina pursed her lips. “... look, I don’t know if you noticed, but your ship capsized, likely with your captain on board. If her nest is somewhere near here, you don’t have to hide its location anymore. Besides, we stand a better chance of survival on land than in the open water. We have no supplies. So, if you know anything about what is around, now would be a good time to share.”

 

Velonara looked at Jaina, left ear bent downward. “I meant no, there isn’t land nearby. None that we charted, at least. We’ve avoided Nazjatar since skirting the edge two years ago. The reefs are deceptive, almost as if they move from time to time. It’s never been worth it to explore this far north, anyway.”

 

“Then why were you sailing this way?” Jaina’s brow furrowed. It didn’t make sense to lead a wild goose chase into the middle of nowhere… _unless_. “Did you intend to drive us into the reefs?”

 

Velonara smirked with a slow nod. “Perhaps you’re more clever than we thought, _medivh.”_ She dipped her hand into the water, wiping the lingering moisture along her cheeks and neck. Sinking lower in her position, she allowed her head to rest against the edge of the dinghy. “We needed to even the odds, and _The Banshee’s Wail_ could out maneuver anyone with me at her helm.”

 

Jaina stared at the elf. The elf’s words answered some questions, while causing half a dozen more to appear. _Even the odds? What would happen if the trap had worked? What was the Banshee playing at?_ Despite her burning curiosity, she only gave voice to one of her queries. “... what is that word? _Medivh?_ Your captain called me that.”

 

Velonara met the human’s gaze out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t respond for a few moments. “Direct translation is ‘keeper of secrets,'” she replied, letting her eyes drift shut. “It’s what our history books use to refer to mages.”

 

“Mages? You think I’m a mage?” Jaina blinked. _What could possibly make them believe_ **_that_** _?_ “Magic isn’t real. While there are _magicians,_ they’re just street performers. Masters of sleight of hand and deception, simple tricks of misdirection.”

 

“Is it, now?” Velonara drawled. Her ears flicked as her eyes opened to slits, meeting the Grand Admiral’s in a pseudo-challenge.

 

“Of course it is.” Jaina’s arms crossed as she met the elf’s gaze. She felt like she was conversing with a stubborn child, unwilling to let go of a bedtime story. “Rather, that’s to say it doesn’t exist. Everything can be explained with science or parlor tricks. Any seemingly _unexplainable_ phenomenon can be attributed to a number of observable-”

 

“Hush!” Velonara bolted upright, holding out her hand to silence the woman. The elf’s ears perked in an expression that reminded Jaina of Lord Norwington’s hounds just before prey appeared. She found herself compelled to stillness. The pirate’s sudden movement and rapt attention toward the western horizon left little room for discussion.

 

Velonara squinted, nostrils flaring as she lowered her hand to the side of the dinghy. “There’s something out there,” she murmured. 

 

Jaina followed the elf’s gaze, spotting nothing but more water. “What is it?”

 

Sapphire eyes darted to Jaina. “Magic.”

 

Jaina rolled her eyes, meeting the elf’s gaze. “I just went _over_ this. Magic isn’t _real_. Whatever story the Banshee Queen decided to tell you is just that, a _story_.”

 

Velonara scoffed. She lifted the piece of driftwood that had been her lifeline, using it as a makeshift paddle. She muttered under her breath in a flowing language Jaina had never heard before. While the Grand Admiral was caught in trying to understand the words, or at least the tone behind them, the navigator propelled them to the west.

 

“Hold on, what are you doing?” Jaina sputtered, shifting to stop the elf. “There’s nothing but open water that way.”

 

Velonara leaned back, shooting the human with a dangerous glare that stopped Jaina in her tracks. “Call it a _hunch_. We have little else to do besides trying to find land, no?”

 

Jaina frowned, unconvinced. “And are you basing your ‘hunch’ off of this foolish belief in _magic_?”

 

“I have not the time, nor the _patience_ to explain this to you, _kim’zar_ ,” Velonara growled as she continued to propel them forward. “But there are things in this world that your people will never understand, things that have been in elven blood for _millennia_.” The elf’s eyes narrowed. “Unless you have a better idea, we go this way.”

 

Something in the Velonara’s voice reminded Jaina of the countless times she had been lectured in her life. Her blue eyes turned ice cold. “And when did the Tides place _you_ in charge?” She waved her hand violently toward the ‘oar.' “Last I checked, you were caught adrift with nothing but _that_ , halfway to death’s locker!”

 

The elf’s ears pinned back as her lip raised in a hiss, revealing fang-like teeth. “And you were curing in the sun like a piece of meat!”

 

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

 

“Food’s food.”

 

Jaina’s eyes narrowed. “How _dare._ ” Her tumultuous emotions concerning being stranded at sea without even a _paddle_ reached a breaking point. She lunged at the elf, her fingers seizing the pirate’s collar and yanking forward. Velonara let out an indignant growl as she managed to assure the piece of driftwood was at least within the boat before turning her attention toward the human.

 

Jaina heaved the slight elf into the belly of the dinghy, scrambling to straddle her waist. Velonara struck the human’s inner elbows with her palms to break the hold on her collar. Her hands wrapped around the back of Jaina’s neck, fingers lacing together to secure the grapple. Bracing her right heel against the Grand Admiral’s hip, Velonara jerked the woman's head downward, flipping her adversary overhead.

 

Jaina tumbled over the elf with a groan, her heel slamming into the bow of the dinghy with a dull thud. Velonara pressed her brief advantage, wrapping her left arm around the human’s neck and securing a choke hold by clasping her hands together at her chest. Jaina kicked and bucked wildly to no avail.

 

“Re...lease me,” Jaina choked out.

 

The grip around her neck did not lessen. “Are you going to play nice?”

 

Dots of black bloomed in her vision. The world began to spin around her in a lightheaded haze. Jaina resisted for a moment more before nodding. Velonara released her grip, leaving the human gasping as she returned to the stern. The Grand Admiral stared at the sky, only moving to sit up when she heard her companion’s paddling onward. She watched the pirate for a few moments. “You let go.”

 

The elf snorted in amusement. “Yes.” 

 

“...why didn’t you just kill me?”

 

Velonara’s ears flicked, her gaze shifting from their course to the human. “What purpose would that serve?”

 

“You’re a pirate.” Jaina frowned. _What other reason did she need?_

 

The elf shook her head as her gaze returned to the horizon. “By necessity, not desire.” Velonara let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t kill lightly.”

 

Jaina wanted to argue, but something in the elf’s response came off as resigned. As if her companion regretted the path her life took. The Grand Admiral could appreciate that. Silence permeated between them, broken only by the sloshing water of each stroke Velonara made to propel them forward. For once, it almost felt comfortable.

 

\---

 

“Are either of you gonna explain why we’re bloody swimming when we could just float and save energy?” Lilian panted heavily, struggling to keep pace with her much agiler companions.

 

"Save your breath, Voss," Sylvanas replied. The lingering ache in her chest affected her ability to swim at her full pace, allowing Anya to pull ahead of her by a few yards. But as her arcane senses returned, she could feel the tingle of nearby magics like an army of beetles crawling over her skin. The anxiety incited by the sensation drove her to keep pace.

 

Lilian let out a huff as she continued behind the two elves for a few more moments, but exhaustion demanded she stop. Rolling to her back, she watched the two figures continue. "No, it's fine! Just leave the human behind, I get it!" 

 

Sylvanas rolled her eyes as she glanced back at the quartermaster. As irritating as the human had proved, she was loath to abandon _any_ of her crew. “Anya, halt,” she called ahead as she slowed. Her gaze turned forward… to find her master gunner missing. 

 

“What the fuck!” It seemed Lilian also found Anya’s sudden disappearance startling. “I fucking blink and butch elfie number two disappears?”

 

“I’m right here, you idiot!” Sylvanas’s ears perked at the other elf’s voice, narrowing her gaze ahead. “Queen, there’s land ahead!”

 

“The fuck is she-”

 

“Silence.” Sylvanas kept her gaze ahead as she cut off Voss. Swimming toward Anya’s voice with caution, she felt the incessant itch of arcane grow to a nearly pleasant hum. A searing throb emanated from her mark just as she breached an illusory barrier, revealing both Anya and the shore of an island less than five hundred yards away.

 

"What the Light-bearing _fuck!_ " Lilian screeched from behind. "Now you disappeared, too?!"

 

Sylvanas glanced back to see the quartermaster staring wide-eyed in their direction. Stifling a sigh, she called back, "Voss, we're right here. Just swim forward."

 

"I swear to the fucking Light, if I fucking died in that _bloody_ explosion and this is my torment," Lilian spat as she waded closer to the invisible barrier. Once past the threshold, she let out a yelp. "Okay, what the FUCK?"

 

Despite the situation, Sylvanas couldn't help a wry smirk. "What was it you said concerning magic?" Her left ear quirked upward in amusement. "Just a fairy tale thing?"

 

Lilian sputtered a few times, wide eyes sweeping between the elves and the land that was not there a second ago. Her hand raised to point at the shore, then to Anya before falling back into the water. "... You know what? If I wake up in the morning still on that beach, then maybe we can talk about this not being a fever dream."

 

"Come." Sylvanas began swimming toward the shore, Anya and Lilian following not far behind. "Our luck has held out."

 

\---

 

“We’re getting close.” The elf’s words startled Jaina from her daydreaming, causing her to look ahead. There was nothing new on the horizon.

 

“Close to what?” Jaina glanced skyward, noting there was perhaps an hour of sunlight left.

 

“The source of my hunch.” Velonara sat with an intensity that set Jaina on edge. The elf’s ears were perked, her eyes darting across the horizon like an animal just about to be startled. The Grand Admiral was unsure how to respond to the situation, beyond simply waiting for whatever her companion sensed. She needn’t wait long. 

 

A shiver ran down Jaina’s spine as land suddenly appeared on the horizon before them. Her eyes widened and her jaw hung slack as her tongue tripped over her words of astonishment. Land. _Land!_ A chance of survival, fresh water, _food_. Her elation restricted the ability to process the absurdity of the island’s miraculous appearance. She was too caught up in _hope_.

 

“And this is why you trust the elf.” Velonara grinned as she rowed with more vigor. 

 

Jaina laughed breathlessly, placing a hand on the elf’s knee in excitement. “Oh, I cannot _tell_ you how excited I am just to lay in the sand.”

 

The pirate raised a brow, making eye contact with the Grand Admiral before purposefully dropping her gaze toward the human’s hand. Jaina’s broad grin wavered for a second as she pulled away, clearing her throat. _That was… awkward._

 

Jaina fixed her gaze on the shore, watching as the details of tropical trees and rocky outcroppings became clearer as their distance closed. Velonara piloted them through the surf zone. As soon as they reached knee depth, Jaina leapt out of the dinghy, running to collapse face down in the sand. 

 

Her fingers curled into the sun-warmed sand, a soft groan escaping her lips. She barely registered the drag of the dinghy ashore, or the exhausted steps of the elf traversing the beach beside her. Letting her eyes drift shut, the Grand Admiral took a moment to ground herself. Daughter of the Sea she may be, but she could not be more thankful to be out of the water.

 

“ _Surfal!”_ Jaina furrowed her brow at her companion’s exclamation. Lifting her head to see what Velonara had shouted out, all of the excitement and joy of the moment drained from her senses. She braced her hands against the ground to stand before freezing at a clicked tongue.

  
The Banshee Queen stood over her, bow at full draw with an arrow aimed between her eyes. “Hello, _Grand Admiral_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY LOOK! 
> 
> The main ship is finally in the same place! And it only took me seven chapters, eh?
> 
> Glossary:  
> Kim'zarei - plural of Kim'zar: short-ears  
> Surfal - 'heart'


	8. Out of the Storm and into the Riptide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm not dead!
> 
> I'm dreadfully sorry for disappearing abruptly, but I have not given up on this project. Updates may be erratic and/or slow, but I'm chugging along on this one. I beg your patience.
> 
> As always, thanks to Rae D Magdon for beta-ing this chapter.
> 
> 11/25 edit: So I recently got a concussion which means limited screen time to write, so the next update will be awhile. Terribly sorry, I want to get it written just as much as ya'll want to read it.

**DAY 1**

 

“ _It’s only been a day, and I am already struggling to not strangle her in her sleep,”_ Anya grumbled beside Sylvanas. The two elves had left Lilian at their makeshift camp to prepare dinner while they searched for debris or supplies that could have washed ashore from _The Banshee’s Wail_. They had walked the coastline for a couple hours with little to show for it, but the pirate captain didn’t mind. It reminded her of their patrols back home.

 

Sylvanas snickered. “ _You know neither of us can cook well.”_ She scanned the length of the beach ahead of them, before glancing to Anya with a smirk. _“The short-ear has her uses.”_

 

_“I hardly call whatever the fuck she made last night ‘cooking’, General.”_

 

Sylvanas wrinkled her nose. What her quartermaster had passed off as ‘dinner’ the prior evening consisted of chunks of brined meat floating in water. It was bad enough to press Sylvanas to stay up most of the evening fletching a dozen crude arrows. Thankfully, she had managed to secure two birds while hunting that morning. A more substantial meal awaited them back at camp. “ _You have a point."_

 

An unnatural splash cut off their conversation as they rounded a rocky outcropping on the shore. They both stilled, ears perking up as their attention was drawn to the surf. A lifeboat approached, carrying two passengers. Sylvanas slid her bow from her shoulder as one of the two inhabitants jumped from the vessel, running through the water with high strides to collapse in the sand. With a nod, Sylvanas slunk around the outcropping, Anya following close behind. The second inhabitant dragged the small dinghy ashore as the elves drew closer. Anya’s startled gasp was Sylvanas’s only warning before her lieutenant broke into a sprint toward the beached boat. _Velonara._

 

“ _Heart!”_ called Velonara, and Sylvanas watched as her lieutenants bounded across the beach toward one another. Velonara leaped into Anya’s arms, her legs wrapping around the taller elf’s waist as her hands braced along Anya’s jaw. The raven-haired woman stumbled back a step as her fingers laced together at Velonara’s back for support. The duo shared a passionate, desperate kiss as Sylvanas turned her attention toward the human laying in the sand. The silver hair with a streak of blond told her all she needed to know about the woman’s identity. 

 

Sylvanas nocked and drew back an arrow, aiming point blank at the Kul Tiran. She clicked her tongue in warning as foggy blue eyes settled on her. “Hello, _Grand Admiral._ ” The woman looked exhausted, sand caked on her right cheek and temple, lending a rough edge to the human’s otherwise soft features. Had it been anyone else, Sylvanas might have laughed at the sight. Instead, she hissed, “Up, Proudmoore.” 

 

Jaina slowly pushed herself up from the sand, gaze sharpened by what the Banshee Queen could only assume was anger. She brushed her hands off on her pants and squared her shoulders. It was almost admirable, how the woman conducted herself at arrow point. “You have me at a disadvantage.” 

 

“Indeed _,”_ Sylvanas purred. 

 

 _“Did she hurt you?”_ The Banshee Queen’s ears flicked as she heard Anya’s desperate words, though she did not dare to glance away. Mages couldn’t be trusted, not even for a blink.

 

Velonara chuckled. “She tried once,” she responded, walking to stand at Sylvanas’s side. “I think she would agree her emotions got the better of her.”

 

Sylvanas’s brow raised, her aim not wavering. “Is that so, Grand Admiral?”

 

Jaina’s jaw clenched, her eyes flicking between the three elves as Anya took position alongside Velonara. “She wanted to go west, into what I _thought_ was open water. So yes, I tried to stop her.” Her gaze settled back on Sylvanas. “I was wrong.”

 

Anya hissed, _“I’ll skin her-”_

 

 _“Hush, heart.”_ Velonara silenced Anya as Sylvanas narrowed her eyes. The Kul Tiran met her gaze with a stern expression, despite her disadvantaged position.

 

Sylvanas couldn’t help but be mildly impressed. _“Velonara, is she armed?”_

 

 _“Not that I’ve seen.”_ Jaina’s brows furrowed as Velonara responded in Thalassian. _Good,_ Sylvanas thought. _Be unsettled._

 

“Anya, bind the Grand Admiral’s hands.” Her lieutenant stepped forward, ears twitching in wary irritation as she produced a short length of rope. Sylvanas watched Anya’s less than gentle knots, securing the human’s wrists together behind her back.

 

Jaina hissed as she glanced over her shoulder at the elf. “Hey, watch it! Unless you want my hands to literally _fall off.”_

 

“Better than you deserve, _short-ear,”_ Anya shot back, gripping the human’s bicep.

 

“Anya,” Sylvanas warned as she released her draw and replaced her arrow in the impromptu quiver at her hip. Her left ear flicked in a gesture to drop it, answered by a slight lowering of Anya’s ears. Confident that her prisoner was secure, Sylvanas turned her gaze toward Velonara. _“Voss will have food and water back at camp. This way.”_

 

\---

 

Jaina grit her teeth as she was led on by her captors. The taller elf - _Anya_ \- that dragged her along seemed unconcerned with her ability to keep pace. She was forced to keep up with a half-walk, half-stumble along the sandy coast. The Banshee Queen and Velonara spoke in casual tones in the same airy language the elf had muttered in on the dinghy. Jaina determined it must be Elvish.

 

The coarse rope that bound her hands dug into her wrists, especially with the bits of sand still clinging to her skin. Jaina twisted her hands in an attempt to loosen it. A harsh squeeze of her bicep elicited a gasp from her and she met Anya’s warning glare. Containing a huff, she fixed her gaze at the Banshee Queen’s back, just between the shoulderblades.

 

 _A woman who has studied the art of war since before your great grandfather was born,_ Sanguinar told Jaina. Observing how Sylvanas Windrunner carried herself, Jaina found the signs more than apparent. Back straight, shoulders rolled back, the pirate reminded her of the dock guards back in Kul Tiras. Disciplined. There seemed to be no formal courtesies between the two elves, though Sylvanas commanded a clear respect. Her orders demanded obedience, much like Jaina’s when the situation called for swift compliance. 

 

But the conversation appeared to be less than a lesser reporting to a superior and more like two friends sharing concern for one another’s well being. Jaina’s brow furrowed. _Were_ they friends? That was unlike most hierarchies she had witnessed in pirate crews. Typically, pirates maintained a sense of rivalry among each other, though Jaina witnessed none of that now. _Is it because they’re both elves?_ Jaina mused.

 

As Jaina mulled over the dynamic of the two pirates ahead, her gaze slid down Sylvanas's back. The Banshee Queen certainly dressed to leave an impression. Those breeches couldn't be all that comfortable...

 

Eyes widening, Jaina tore her gaze away from the pirate captain's backside. Now was not the time to gawk at _any_ woman's assets, much less those belonging to her _captor_. The lack of food and exhaustion must have affected her ability to think clearly. _Tides, Jaina. Do something_ **useful** , she chided herself. 

 

Jaina turned her attention to her surroundings. They had veered off the beach and into the trees. Her land navigation skills had never been ideal, but Jaina put forth her best effort to form a mental map back to the beached dinghy. She could use it, if she managed to escape. The trees broke around them to reveal a clearing housing the pirate’s camp. Jaina looked around, eyes widened in surprise. 

A lean-to stood between two of the jungle trees, providing comfortable room for four.  Large, woven mats of palm leaves made up both the roof and floor of the structure, providing protection and creature comfort. Jaina reckoned sleeping in the camp would be more comfortable than hammocks on a ship. Beyond the mouth of the ingenious shelter a fire pit had been carved out in the dirt and lined with smooth rocks from the beach. They even devised a cooking rack that sat atop the rocks. Either the pirates were masters at survival, or they had been here for quite some time.

 

Jaina spotted a human woman, likely close to her own age with blond hair, crouched beside the fire. The woman grunted as she looked up from the slices of meat strewn across the cooking rack, “What you catch this time, elfies?”

 

Jaina’s brow furrowed as Anya shoved her toward the other woman. “A Grand Admiral.”

 

The human raised a brow as she met Jaina’s gaze, smirking slightly. “Oh, that’s fucking helpful - a ticket out of here.”

 

“Precisely,” the Banshee Queen agreed. She stalked through the camp, sparing Jaina a brief glance before addressing the woman once more. “Voss, look after our esteemed _guest_. Anya, Velonara.” Silvery eyes flicked toward the two elven women, before the Banshee Queen stalked toward the lean to, her lieutenants in tow. Jaina watched them go with a stern frown. 

 

“Hungry?” Her hair whipped back as Jaina turned to face the human - _Voss._ The pale blonde gestured toward her with a piece of meat skewered on a dagger. Jaina’s eyes were drawn to the golden brown skin of whatever prey the pirates had caught and her mouth flooded with sour saliva. Jaina _was_ hungry. Very hungry.

 

Voss smirked as she tore off a piece of the meat. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She offered the prize to Jaina.

 

Jaina pouted as she rolled her shoulders forward to draw attention to her still bound hands. “I’m kind of incapable of feeding myself at the moment.”

 

Voss rolled her eyes. “Well, I ain’t fucking hand feeding you.” She popped the morsel into her mouth with a satisfied groan, eyes closing in pleasure. “Holy _shit_ , that’s fucking good,” she mumbled as she balanced the dagger over the cooking rack before circling Jaina. Following a couple jerks on the rope binding her wrists, Jaina felt the pressure ease as Voss released her. “Just don’t run off, okay? They’ll track you down, anyway.” 

 

Jaina met the pirate’s gaze with furrowed brows, but she didn’t respond. She bit hesitantly into the offered meal after taking the slice Voss offered her. The smokey flavor of fire roasted meat paired with the sweet, juicy taste of fowl in her mouth, flooding her tastebuds in ecstasy. Groaning softly, Jaina felt the effects of the well cooked meal, small as it was, sink into her body. The tension of her shoulders eased, the pangs of her stomach soothed and the fog of her mind cleared. Jaina’s eyes fluttered at the sensation as she chewed, freeing more of the savory flavors into her mouth. “... wow.”

 

Voss snorted at Jaina’s reaction, shaking her head as she checked the rest of the meat for doneness. “You’re welcome.”

 

Jaina nodded as she took another bite, eyes locking on Voss. “Thanks,” she muttered around a mouthful. Letting out an appreciative sigh, she sank to the ground beside the firepit. Jaina forced herself to slow down, wanting to savor every bite of her meal. Her elbows perched on her knees and her gaze wandered, eventually settling on the elves huddled in the shelter.

 

“Lilian.” Jaina’s attention snapped back to Voss, who was smirking down at her. “Or Lily’s cool, too.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Voss’s brow rose with a snicker. “My name, O’Grand Admiral.” She turned back toward the fire. “And I sure as shit ain’t calling you ‘Grand Admiral’ the whole time we’re stuck on this Light-forsaken island, so unless you want me calling you an anchor weight…”

 

“Jaina’s fine.” Jaina wrinkled her nose at the main-lander slur regarding Kul Tirans. “So, you’re a Lordie, then?”

 

Lilian fixed Jaina with a wry grin, nodding in agreement. “Yup. Born and raised on the border of Silverpine.”

 

Jaina nodded. She knew the basic geography of Lordaeron and Gilneas, though the names of forests and mountains meant little to her. She had rarely journeyed beyond the major cities and roads of the other kingdoms. 

 

Silence fell between them again, allowing Jaina’s mind to evaluate her new circumstances. Stranded on an invisible island with four pirates. No means of contacting her crew or her people to verify her survival, let alone secure a rescue. And at least a day’s worth of sailing from any harbor. A dire situation, indeed.

 

Jaina continued to munch on the fowl as her gaze wandered over to the shelter where the elves were conversing in hushed tones. Her brow furrowed as she caught bits and pieces of flowy language on the air. _What are they talking about?_

 

\---

 

 _“The short-ear is staring,”_ Anya grumbled. Her hand clenched protectively around Velonara’s shoulder.

 

Sylvanas rolled her eyes. _“Then let her stare. She’s in no position to do anything brash.”_ She resisted the urge to look back at the Grand Admiral seated by the fire, choosing to sit with her back to the rest of the camp. _“We need to focus on escape.”_

 

Velonara nodded her agreement, resting her head against Anya’s shoulder as she sipped from a canteen. _“Were there any other survivors?”_

 

 _“No.”_ Sylvanas shook her head. _“We found some wreckage, along with a few bodies.”_

 

 _“The Dog was one of them,”_ Anya added.

 

Velonara snorted softly, shaking her head. _“Of course he was.”_

 

 _“Velonara, were you able to see the island from afar?”_ Sylvanas asked, changing the subject. While Nathanos had begun to grate on her nerves, she didn’t necessarily wish such a fate on him and she would not allow her lieutenants to mock a corpse. Even a human.

 

Velonara shook her head again, lowering the canteen to rest in her lap with a shaking arm. The elf’s state was concerning even in the best of circumstances. Velonara had put up a strong front when Sylvanas and Anya found her on the beach, but they both knew it was an act to maintain control over the situation with Grand Admiral. With skin a few shades paler, limbs shaking under their own weight and glow faltering in her eyes, Velonara was one foot in the grave.

 

 _“I got lucky,”_ Velonara admitted, allowing her guise to drop. The quiet tone of her otherwise determined voice betrayed her fragility. _“Got swept off the deck before it capsized. I was in the water for hours. A couple swells nearly dragged me under completely."_ Anya's grip on Velonara turned white knuckled as she took another shaky sip of water. _"By the time the storm cleared, I had lost my bearings to the ship. I was able to float for awhile, but I couldn’t risk sleeping or reverie._

 

 _"I sensed a small blip of magic, though I wasn’t sure I wasn’t hallucinating from exhaustion. I took the risk and_ _swam for i_ _t.”_ Velonara's eyes shifted to the fire pit, where the Grand Admiral sat next to Lilian. _“I found her in one of our lifeboats, baking. From there, I was able to sense the island.”_ Velonara’s ears twitched in an exhausted shrug.

 

Anya pressed a concerned kiss to Velonara’s brow. _“Thank the Sun for such. If you had died out there…”_

 

Velonara patted Anya’s forearm with a trembling hand. _“It’s alright, heart. I’m alright.”_ She turned her attention back to Sylvanas. _“But no, I wasn’t able to see the island until we were right upon it. It seems like there is some kind of illusory barrier.”_

 

 _“So it would seem,”_ Sylvanas agreed with a frown. It presented a difficult problem, if the island could not be detected from afar. While she was sure that she could barter passage off this Sun-forsaken island in exchange for the Grand Admiral of Kul Tiras, Sylvanas needed a vessel to _see_ them first. An invisible barrier cloaking the island would prove detrimental to that outcome.

 

 _“Anya, do you suppose we could make a signal fire large enough for the smoke to rise above the upper limits of the barrier?”_ Sylvanas set her gaze on her master gunner, the most experienced with pyrotechnics of all of them.

 

Anya furrowed her brow, ears bending downward in concentration. _“Theoretically? It’s possible. But we’d have no idea how tall the column of smoke would need to be.”_

 

 _“Not unless_ _one o_ _f us paddled past the barrier…”_ Velonara piped up. _“That way we can be sure, instead of wasting time and resources on constant signal fires that can’t be seen.”_

 

Sylvanas grinned in her lieutenants’ direction, glad to not be the only sane and logical castaway on the invisible island. _“Velonara, could you manage such a feat?”_

 

_“I could.”_

 

Anya gasped in alarm. _“General! Not today, not without rest.”_ She circled her arms around Velonara in an attempt to protect her lover.

 

 _“Relax, Anya,”_ Sylvanas reassured. _“Not today, nor tomorrow. We will need time to gather materials necessary for a large enough fire, anyway.”_ She glanced toward the firepit, where the two humans seemed to be engaged in amiable conversation. _“Meanwhile, Velonara can keep an eye on our captive. Make sure the Grand Admiral is not turning our quartermaster against us.”_

 

Sylvanas turned back in time to see Velonara’s shoulders slump in relief. Sylvanas knew Velonara would have carried on if asked, regardless of her exhaustion. Sylvanas smiled, patting Velonara’s shoulder. The loyalty of her lieutenants never ceased to amaze Sylvanas.

 

_“Get rest, both of you. I’ll keep first watch tonight.”_


	9. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HELLO!
> 
> Yes, I am in fact not dead. Or sick... since that is a threat in this brave new world we live in.
> 
> Anyway, this update is not nearly as polished as my previous chapters, but I crave instant gratification so I might actually continue this story... So here ya go!

**DAY 2**

 

Jaina awoke just before the sunrise. Shivering, she sat upright and clutched her legs into her chest. The unsettling feeling of being watched plagued Jaina’s senses, leading to her meeting the gaze of keen elven eyes in the lean to. Jaina took a deep breath to steel herself as she stood and dusted herself off. 

 

“What do you want,  _ kim’zar? _ ” Anya hissed as Jaina approached the shelter she had not been allowed to sleep in. Jaina noted the large elf had positioned herself to stand in between Jaina and Velonara. Jaina found it curious that a pirate would be so obviously protective in her personal relationships, but then again, everything she had witnessed so far of these pirates did not add up with her previous experiences.

 

Jaina cleared her throat. “I wanted to head to the beach to watch the sunrise.” If she were being honest, that wasn’t Jaina’s only motivation, but she wasn’t going to admit to the most aggressive of her captors that she wanted to verify her mental map to the beach.

 

Anya’s brow furrowed and her ears pinned back. In other circumstances, Jaina might have found the expression comical, the way that a full grown woman could invoke the image of a cat spewing vitriol. “No, you need to stay where I can see you.”

 

Jaina scowled, about to speak up in protest, before she was interrupted.  _ “Aran, Anya.” _ Anya’s ears flicked as she glanced over her shoulder, making eye contact with Sylvanas. Jaina hadn’t noticed the Banshee Queen had been sitting upright in the back of the shelter until Sylvanas stood. She clasped Anya’s shoulder as she exited the structure, continuing in their elusive language. _ “Diel’dalah anor.” _

 

Sylvanas turned her attention to Jaina. “I’m coming with you.”

 

Jaina suppressed a frown. She preferred finding her way alone, but she couldn’t deny the company without giving away her intentions. Instead, Jaina sighed and nodded. “Of course.” She turned, not pausing to ensure her companion followed.

 

Stepping into the dense forest around the clearing, Jaina realized how she was desperately out of her element. In the dark of pre-dawn, each and every tropical tree looked the same and the makeshift trail Jaina had thought the elves had led her down yesterday disappeared into the underbrush. In mere minutes, she was hopelessly lost.

 

A snort startled Jaina as she debated between different routes. She turned back to find Sylvanas smirking and shaking her head. “This way, human.” Sylvanas took two strides past Jaina, following a third path the Grand Admiral had not seen, pausing every so often to verify Jaina followed her.

 

Jaina took a deep breath, fighting the internal urge to chastise herself for her inabilities. It would do her no good in her quest to escape to focus on the things she could not do. Instead, Jaina focused her attention on the path Sylvanas guided her, hoping to notice specific markers she could use later. 

 

The trees broke before them to reveal a beach inlet just as the first rays of pink and orange crested the eastern waters. Jaina smiled and approached the water, sitting just within the surf, despite the chill. She could see the living beauty of this island, with its pale beige sands, dark green foliage and crystal blue waters. For the first time since setting out of Fen’harel after  _ The Banshee’s Wail _ , Jaina allowed her mind to fall silent. The splendorous sight before her demanded no less.

 

“I never thought I’d see a human awestruck by nature.” Sylvanas’s words broke the silence of the breaking dawn as she joined Jaina in the sand. Jaina spared a glance at her companion. The elf’s ears bent downward at the tips as steely blue eyes pierced into Jaina’s. “Your kind seems to be more interested in how to plunder it.”

 

Jaina shrugged as she pulled off her boots and dug her toes into the sand. “Most do. But I’ve learned to respect the seas. ‘If a captain views the water as his first enemy, he’s doomed to never make it out of port. But if the ocean is his friend… then he’ll know true freedom.’” Jaina was uncertain as to why she felt the urge to repeat her father’s words to her companion. But something about how Sylvanas’s ears perked and her shoulders relaxed told Jaina they resonated.

 

Jaina realized that Sylvanas was still a notorious pirate, and her expression soured as she turned her gaze back to the sea. "You're one to accuse me of plunder, anyhow."

 

Sylvanas scoffed. “I do what I must to survive.”

 

The nonchalance of Sylvanas’s tone set Jaina’s blood boiling. “Really?” She glared at the woman, growling, “Pillaging innocent ports? Killing indiscriminately? You mean to tell me there is no way for you to survive that doesn’t result in you preying upon others?” 

 

Sylvanas’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me,  _ Grand Admiral, _ don’t your nation’s tariffs do the same? Taking advantage of the very merchants you claim to protect, forcing them to pay  _ you _ in order to ply their trade, to make their livelihood?” Jaina growled indignantly, but Sylvanas continued. “Most, if not  _ all _ of my crew came from small towns and hamlets that couldn’t handle the burden of taxation. They couldn’t afford to feed themselves.”

 

“That’s hardly an excuse to take from others!”

 

“Is it not?” Sylvanas posed, her voice shifting to a child-like timbre of innocent query. “A wolf does not ponder the morality of killing a deer. It is simply hungry, so it eats.”

 

“Humans are not wild animals!” Jaina argued.

 

“Then you and I have vastly different definitions of ‘wild animal.’” Sylvanas stood and began retreating back into the forest. “Come, Proudmoore.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Unless you’d rather be stranded on the beach for the day, since you stumble around like a blind fawn in the underbrush.”

 

Jaina grumbled under her breath, glancing back to the sunrise longingly before hurrying to her feet and after her disappearing guide.

 

\---

 

_ “So how was the short-ear?” _ Anya asked, tossing another piece of driftwood onto the growing pile.  _ “Did she try to run?” _

 

Sylvanas quirked an ear in Anya’s direction. She remained silent, pondering whether the question dignified an answer. As the knot securing her own  bundle of wood loosed, Sylvanas smirked at Anya.  _ “Not quite, considering she fumbled like a fawn in the woods.” _

 

Anya snorted,  _ “Can’t expect much better from a short-ear.”  _ She continued unloading her own makeshift sled. 

 

_ “Oh, I don’t know,” _ Sylvanas mused.  _ “I’m sure there must be at least  _ **_one_ ** _ who can properly navigate.” _ Her ear canted backward sarcastically as she hefted the planks onto the pile. 

 

_ “And I’m a Magister,” _ Anya responded with an equally sarcastic smirk.

 

Sylvanas chuckled, surveying the state of the bonfire. It was more or less a pile of anything they were able to find that was dry enough to catch, but not so hefty that it would stay lit for long. Sylvanas braced her hands on her hips with a nod.  _ “Come.” _ She turned her gaze toward Anya.  _ “Let us collect some greenery to increase the smoke.” _

 

Anya fell into step behind Sylvanas as they breached the treeline.  _ “Did she really just want to see the sunrise?” _

 

Sylvanas frowned, though her expression was hidden from Anya’s view. Her thoughts harked back to that morning, to the sight of the Grand Admiral staring across the water with an awed demeanor. The dull pink of the rising sun had outlined the human’s silhouette magnificently. Not that Sylvanas would ever admit it aloud.

 

_ “Mostly,” _ Sylvanas responded, sparing a glance over her shoulder.  _ “Though she had choice words about our ‘profession.’” _

 

Anya rolled her eyes with a huff.  _ “Of course.” _

 

Sylvanas continued on in relative silence, considering the conversation done. The two elves moved like wind through the underbrush, coming upon a patch of overgrown foliage. Sylvanas drew a blade from her hip, setting to work hacking off fronds of green.

 

_ “Almost reminds me of home,” _ Anya mused as she followed Sylvanas’s lead.

 

Eversong Woods was rarely so untame, but Sylvanas could appreciate the sentiment. Rangers, first and foremost, were creatures of the wild. It was pleasant to revisit her roots. 

 

_ “A shame we’re stranded with a few humans,”  _ Sylvanas hummed.

 

Anya grumbled her agreement. The elves made quick work of their task, soon returning to the beach.As they sorted through materials, Anya broke the silence again.  _ “General… forgive me for doubting, but what if it doesn't work?” _

 

Sylvanas pursued her lips, ears twitching with irritation.  _ “Then we’ll find another solution.” _

 

_ “...we could stay here.” _ Anya’s words were uncharacteristically soft, though Sylvanas dismissed the suggestion as soon as it registered. She would not be defeated by some mystically cloaked island. Sylvanas was the former Ranger General of Quel'thalas, slayer of countless foes, and the dreaded Banshee Queen of the high seas, a nightmare in the minds of every sea-farer from Stranglethorn to Lordaeron. Respected. Feared. Nothing would result in her surrender.

 

Sylvanas Windrunner never surrendered.

 

_ “No.”  _ Steel-grey eyes ensnared turquoise, stating in no uncertain terms that Sylvanas would humor the discussion no further. Anya bowed her head in deference, continuing her work in silence. 

 

\---

 

The silence of the camp was deafening. Maddening. Especially to Jaina's alert mind.

 

Sylvanas and Anya had left less than an hour after Jaina’s little expedition to the shore, leaving Velonara to keep watch from the lean-to. The elf sat propped up against one of the guidepoles of the structure, running her knife along a chunk of driftwood. But it seemed her task did not keep her from remaining vigilant. Everytime Jaina glanced up, Velonara’s eyes were locked on her like a hawk.

 

Hours passed in this tense state. Jaina could hear the steady strokes of Velonara’s knife carving the wood over the dying crackles of the fire. It set her hair on edge. For once, Jaina wished for something,  _ anything  _ to do. Relief washed over Jaina when Lilian crawled out of the lean-to around midday.

 

“Good morning, anchor weight,” Lilian greeted. The pirate knelt to inspect the coals of the fire before adding another log to stoke the flames.

 

“More like day at this point,” Jaina replied, her tone just shy of dead. Lillian seemed unbothered by it as the gangly woman stretched. Jaina frowned, meeting eyes with Velonara briefly before continuing, “What’s the plan today? Surely we’re trying to find a way off this Tides-cursed island?”

 

Lillian waved a hand in Jaina’s general direction as she yawned, “Slow your roll, Proudmoore. The Cap’n and Butch Elf are working on it.”

 

Jaina’s expression lifted. There  _ was _ a plan. While Jaina was determined to escape the island without her captors, she hoped there would be a window of opportunity for her to overtake whatever route the pirates managed to secure. It would be easier to let the Banshee and her remaining crew fabricate the means of escaping the island than do it all herself. Though that did Jaina little good if she didn’t know what the plan  _ was _ .

 

Jaina glanced back at Velonara, noting the elf’s watchful gaze still followed her every move. She doubted her chances at determining anything useful from Velonara. Lillian, on the other hand…

 

Jaina shifted around the edge of the firepit so her back faced the lean-to. After a brief internal debate, she decided asking outright might be her best chance. “Did they tell you what they were working on?”

 

Lillian plopped onto the ground across from Jaina, looking up at the woman as she crossed her arms over her knees with a shrug. “Probably gathering wood for a fire. I don’t know about this blasted  _ illusion _ bullshit, but I guess they want to send Velonara out in the dingy to see if a signal fire is an option.”

 

The idle gears in Jaina’s head whirled into action. If they were setting up a signal fire, then the window for her escape was shrinking. If she couldn’t find a way to get away from the pirates by the time a ship approached land, Jaina knew Sylvanas would trade her personal safety for safe passage. Even the most cautious of merchants would allow four pirates aboard for the allure of returning the Grand Admiral to her homeland. Or, rather, the allure of the coin that Kul Tiras would pay.

 

The timeline was too short, Jaina knew. As it stood, she couldn’t even manage to locate the shore alone. There was no purpose in trying to scurry off in the night if it meant she got lost. Her best bet was to allow the pirates' plan to play out, while devising her own solution to enacting justice once rescue had been secure.

 

Jaina sighed, turning her gaze back to the crackling fire.  _ Tidemother, help me get out of this mess... _

 

\---

 

_ “Good, you’re finally back,” _ Velonara said as Sylvanas and Anya ducked into the lean to, the latter stooping to place a soft kiss to her brow.  _ “One of you can watch the mage. I’m exhausted.” _

 

Anya gave a sympathetic look to her mate as she sat beside Velonara. With a few seconds of adjustments, the shorter elf leaned back against Anya.  _ “Did she give any trouble?” _

 

Velonara shook her head as Anya began to stroke her hair. She set her eyes on Sylvanas.  _ “She’s been making small talk with Voss and helping around the fire. I’m sure she’s planning something, however. I’ve never seen someone so aware of my eyes on them.” _

 

_ “Perhaps your skills are lacking due to exhaustion,”  _ Sylvanas countered as she unslung her bow in the back of the shelter.

 

Anya’s ears pinned back, but Velonara silenced her scathing defense with a hand.  _ “Likely,” _ the helmsman responded.  _ “This is worse than Zul’Aman.” _

 

Sylvanas grit her teeth at the mention of the forsaken place, ears lowering. Taking a breath to steel herself, she turned back toward her lieutenants.  _ “If you need more rest, we can wait.” _

 

Velonara shook her head.  _ “No, I’ll be fine. Just another solid meal and night’s rest will have me back to normal.” _

 

_ “Vel…” _ Anya cautioned, brow furrowed with concern.

 

_ “I’ll be fine, love, _ ” Velonara repeated. She tilted her head back to meet her lover’s gaze in silent communication. Sylvanas looked away as she continued unloading her equipment. While she felt no bond as strongly as those she had forged with her lieutenants, Sylvanas acknowledged their loyalty was second only to the loyalty to one another. It was never her place to interfere in that.

 

_ “Okay,” _ Anya eventually acquiesced. Turning her attention back to Sylvanas, she continued,  _ “We should restock our food. Especially now that there are more mouths to feed.” _

 

Sylvanas nodded her agreement as she sat facing the other two.  _ “Indeed.” _ She nodded toward the horizon, where the sun was beginning to fade.  _ “One of us can hunt with dusk, while the other keeps an eye on our prisoner.” _

 

_ “I’ll go,”  _ Anya volunteered, standing after sharing a kiss with Velonara. Sylvanas reached out to offer her bow, only to have it waved away.  _ “I don’t like the feel of Talah’ental in my hands. I can make due with my blade.” _

 

Sylvanas nodded, returning the bow to her side. She knew Anya was lying, her lieutenant had no problem wielding the ranged weapon. But she also knew Anya would insist if she pressed further. Her mark recoiled constantly on this island, causing more than a few stumbles during their earlier outings. Anya knew the bow helped ease Sylvanas’s pain. At least she was giving her General an opportunity to save face.  _ “Sun be with you.” _

 

Anya left with a nod, leaving Sylvanas and Velonara alone in the shelter.  _ “It’s gotten worse, hasn’t it?”  _

 

Sylvanas sighed at her lieutenant’s query, allowing some of her weariness to show in the sag of her shoulders. There was no use in trying to hide it.  _ “I haven’t slept, nor have I gotten more than an hour of reverie at a time.” _

 

Velonara hissed sympathetically as she scooted toward Sylvanas.  _ “Is there any obvious reason for it? Is the wound changing?” _

 

Sylvanas peered out of the shelter, ensuring the humans could not see, before she lifted the front of her shirt. The pink stripe of raw flesh over her lower sternum had grown an angry red hue since landing on the island. Velonara gasped, prodding the mark with a careful, if a bit shaky, hand. 

 

_ “It hasn’t looked that bad since we dragged you out of that temple.” _

 

_ “I’m aware.” _ Sylvanas let her shirt fall to cover the mark once more.  _ “The attacks have been frequent… every two or three hours. My only theory is the mage’s proximity. Or whatever magic was used to erect the illusory barrier.” _

 

Velonara nodded her sympathy. There was nothing more to say. While grateful for her lieutenants’ concern, Sylvanas could only continue to carry her burden as unobtrusively as possible. 

 

_ “Get some rest, Velonara,” _ Sylvanas gently ordered.  _ “Hopefully you’ll bear good news tomorrow so we can get out of this mess.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aran - loosely 'alright'. In this context, 'It's alright, Anya"  
> Diel'dalah anor - I will take/guide her.


	10. Smokeless Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what a sensible update schedule is, so here you go!

**DAY 3**

 

Jaina watched the horizon with enraptured care. She could feel the searing heat from the bonfire, even at her distance. A column of smoke snaked into the air. If that wasn’t visible from the sea, nothing would be.

 

Jaina shifted her gaze to the others on shore. Anya stood stiffly beside a pile of palm fronds, ears perked upright and brows knitted together. A few paces to her left, Lillian sat atop an overturned bucket, drawing crude images in the sand. Sylvanas stood just shy of the surf, sight trained on the horizon as if she could still see Velonara in the dinghy. 

 

Jaina had lost sight of the bobbing speck ten minutes ago, though she waited anxiously to see movement again. They all did.

 

Their salvation depended on good news.

 

“She’s on her way back,” Sylvanas uttered, turning to address Lillian. “Douse the fire.”

 

“Aye, Cap’n,” Lillian grunted as she stood, retrieving her former seat. As Anya prodded the fire, Lillian began pailing water over it. Jaina flinched at the harsh hiss as she tried to spot Velonara. 

 

“Are you sure?” Jaina squinted to no avail. “I don’t see her.”

 

Sylvanas scoffed. “Look closer.”

 

Still, Jaina couldn’t see a thing for at least another minute, until a small speck bobbed on the horizon once more. “Oh.” She turned toward the fire, to see only soaked, blackened wood in its place.

 

“Cap’n’s got the best eyes I’ve ever seen,” Lillian reported off-hand as she planted the bucket once more.

 

Jaina looked at Sylvanas, startled to see the pirate captain staring back at her.  _ The best I’ve seen, too.  _ She whipped her gaze back toward the surf. Her intrusive thoughts were getting more troublesome by the day.

 

They all waited with thinly veiled anticipation as Velonara returned to shore. Anya waded through the surf to aid the elf in dragging the dinghy aground as Velonara deposited her newly carved oar within. Jaina had been surprised by the craftsmanship the pirate had displayed when she revealed the item earlier that morning.

 

“So?” Lillian asked, putting a voice to everyone’s thoughts. “Could you see it?”

 

Velonara frowned, ears lowered as she looked at Sylvanas. “Nothing. Not a single plume.”

 

Jaina’s heart sank at the revelation.  _ How are we supposed to get out of here, then? _ Her mind turned back to her crew. They might have made it back to Fen’harel by now, but there was no way repairs had been completed. Her mother couldn’t even know she was missing yet.

 

Jaina bit her tongue to hold back her tears.

 

The motley crew gathered on the shore took the news in varying ways. Velonara looked ashamed, ears still lowered like a reprimanded hound as she looked toward Anya. The taller elf wrapped her arm around Velonara in a comforting gesture, seeming more preoccupied with providing solace than addressing her own emotions. Sylvanas stood, back ramrod straight with her jaw clenched. If Jaina didn't know better, she would say the knowledge hit the Banshee Queen as painfully as a physical blow.

 

“Well, that’s just fucking  _ grand,” _ Lillian grumbled, tossing the twig she had used as a writing implement into the water. “So we’re fucking stuck.” She threw her arms up in defeat before crossing them in front of her like an adolescent mid-tantrum. 

 

Jaina could relate. The sense of dread following the realization she may spend the rest of her life on an island with four pirates left a bitter taste in her mouth. There had to be a solution. They simply weren’t looking hard enough. Then, an idea…

 

“Why don’t we build a ship?” Jaina broke the clinging silence with a hopeful tone. She looked to each of the women surrounding her. Anya affixed her with a doubtful glare. Velonara frowned, though her ears perked forward. Lillian uncrossed her arms. Sylvanas's brow furrowed in a grimace.

 

“Well?” Jaina pressed, gesturing to the forest behind them. “We have ample resources, we just need to harvest them.”

 

Sylvanas answered her first, voice strained, “Did it occur to you,  _ Grand Admiral _ , that sailing a ship and building one are two separate skill sets?” 

 

Jaina would not be so easily deterred. “Velonara seems handy with wood.” She gestured toward the oar laying inside the dinghy. “And I have more than a passing knowledge in naval construction. Every Kul Tiran has a basic education in it.”

 

“Father was a carpenter,” Lillian muttered with a shrug. “I picked up a bit as a kid.”

 

“See?” Jaina seized on the flickering embers of hope she saw emerging from her unlikely allies. While she was less than keen to work alongside pirates, Jaina was determined to make it home. She refused to have her mother lose another child to the seas. “It’s not our best option, but it’s either we pray the Tidemother sends us a ship, or we build it ourselves and sail away from this cursed island.”

 

Lillian nodded in agreement. Anya glanced down at Velonara, before both elves shared determined looks. Even Sylvanas nodded eventually, addressing Jaina with a curious head tilt, “Very well, Proudmoore. How do you suggest we begin?”

 

As Jaina set about drafting a crude schematic for a ship in the sand, allies cluttered around her, the fact that Sylvanas used her name did not escape her notice. The troublesome warm feeling blossoming from her chest didn’t either.

 

\---

 

**DAY 7**

 

In the few days since Proudmoore had enacted a new escape plan, Sylvanas had stepped into the background. Jealousy did not lead her to spending more time alone, attempting to properly map the island. Her mark had only grown worse with each passing day, bringing with it fits of pain and rage. In an attempt to keep her declining condition from the others, Sylvanas became anti-social.

 

Anya and Velonara both made the point to interact with her each day, if only in a concerned glance while the humans were preoccupied. Sylvanas understood they had agreed to Proudmoorel’s plan more out of a concern for  _ her _ than themselves. Were she not present, her lieutenants would be more than happy to spend the rest of their lives on the island in peace.

 

_ They’ve always kept an eye on me. _ Even before her ascension to Ranger General, as a Captain, and before that, a class leader, Sylvanas had placed her trust in Anya and Velonara. They never disappointed, even when it caused them to be cast out of their homeland.

 

Sylvanas carried much guilt in her life. Some would say most was unfounded. But the heaviest burden of all in the last few decades was her inability to protect those closest to her from the unfair judgement of Quel’thalas. Anya and Velonara were creatures of Eversong Woods, not the harsher climates of the world beyond  _ Ban’dinoriel _ . This island was the closest to home any of the three elves had seen.

 

_ Yet they would leave it again. For me. _

 

Sylvanas grimaced. A part of her wanted to fade away completely, to lift her lieutenants’ bond of loyalty to her and allow them their peace. But she knew it was impossible. Short of letting the tides wash her away, there was no way to release them from their self-prescribed service. They would come looking for her.

 

_ Like Zul’Aman. _

 

Sylvanas pushed away the memory of that Sun-forsaken temple as she resolved to rise for the day. The sun peeked over the horizon, painting the sky in light purple. Her night had been no more restful than any other, spent drifting in and out of reverie without achieving any semblance of peace. While no one would fault her for a late start, Sylvanas hoped to make progress further inland. An early start could only improve her chances. 

 

Sylvanas smoothed out her shirt and slung  _ Talah’ental _ over her shoulder before picking her way through the sleeping occupants. With a cocked brow, she noted Proudmoore, who had spent the last few nights within the shelter, was not among them. Exiting the lean to, Sylvanas needn’t wait long for an explanation.

 

“Heading out?” Proudmoore asked, looking up from her crouched position by the fire. She looked more awake than Sylvanas would have expected at such an early hour.

 

Sylvanas straightened her posture, confident that she could at least fool Proudmoore into believing she was well rested. “Of course. The sooner I venture out, the more time I have to scout.”

 

Proudmoore nodded as she stood. “I’ll come with you.”

 

Sylvanas blinked. The last thing she wanted was the  _ mage’s _ presence. She hoped that by distancing herself from Proudmoore, her attacks would lessen in severity. As it stood, the heart-crushing ache flared up every couple of hours. “I think not.”

 

“Why not?”  _ Was that a pout? _

 

Sylvanas rolled her eyes as she started walking toward the northwestern edge of camp. “Because I work best alone,” she deflected, ears twitching in irritation. 

 

“Look,” Proudmoore beseeched as she followed after Sylvanas. “There’s a few specific materials we need. I figured it might help if I go with you to identify them.”

 

“I believe I can make an accurate assumption on the value of  _ trees _ , Grand Admiral.”

 

Proudmoore grabbed Sylvanas’ arm to spin her around.  _ Crushing agony with the wafting smell of decay. _ Sylvanas hissed at the sensation. Her lip peeled back, baring her fangs as her ears flattened in nearly uncontrolled aggression. Sylvanas felt the creeping, bubbling urge to scream rise in her chest. Clenching her trembling fists, she stamped out the desire with all her might. This woman was  _ infuriating _ .

 

Proudmoore blinked before tilting her head curiously. “...are those fangs?”

 

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes. “If I said yes, would you leave me?”  _ Why must I humor these senseless questions? _ She asked herself as she wrenched her arm out of Proudmoore’s grasp.

 

Proudmoore swallowed.  _ Oh, right, her crush. _ It had been all too easy for Sylvanas to see. To  _ exploit _ . The game of seduction -  _ is it really much of a game if I merely have to look in her direction? - _ had served Sylvanas well in their first confrontation. Sylvanas didn’t mind being the object of others’ affections. In another world, she might have even  _ humored _ the human. 

 

However, given how circumstance had forced them to work together as relative equals, the Grand Admiral’s behavior grew troublesome. Proudmoore’s perpetual fawning reminded Sylvanas far too much of Nathanos.  _ This is ridiculous. _

 

Proudmoore seemed to regain herself with a head shake. “Do you know how to make tar?”

 

Sylvanas’s brow furrowed at the unrelated question. “Excuse me?”

 

“Tar.” Proudmoore frowned as she crossed her arms. “You know, the sticky stuff used to seal the planks of a hull?”

 

Sylvanas, in fact,  _ did not _ know, though she would not allow Proudmoore that knowledge. Instead, she lied. “I know what  _ tar _ is, but I fail to see your point.”

 

Proudmoore let out a slow breath, her shoulders slacking. “Certain types of wood produce better tar than others.”  _ Tar is made from wood… _   “I toured the lumberyard in Kul Tiras when I was a girl, and they pointed out the differences.” The image of a blond haired girl skipping around neatly organized rows of trees amused Sylvanas, though she couldn’t understand why. “So, my  _ point _ is that I could point out the right trees while  _ we _ explore-” Sylvanas wondered how Proudmoore looked with a full head of golden hair, instead of the silver-white mane she now sported. “-so you can make note of where to find them when we get to that stage in shipbuilding.”

 

Sylvanas stared back at Proudmoore, realizing the woman had finished pleading her case. She tired of arguing with Proudmoore, and perhaps if the hike proved dull enough, she would not have to suffer the mage’s presence in the future. With a heavy sigh, Sylvanas nodded in agreement. “Keep up, Proudmoore.”

 

Sylvanas barely spared a second glance to ensure Proudmoore kept pace as she delved into the forest. It was almost pleasant, quiet aside for clumsy steps trailing behind her. The forest came alive with the sun’s journey ever skyward. Sylvanas’s ears swiveled, catching the stray sounds of life - a bird greeting the morning with a cheerful twitter, a mouse dancing across the forest floor. After a few hours, she paused to close her eyes, taking a deep breath of the humid air. The scent almost made the ache in her chest bearable.

 

“Everything alright?” Sylvanas opened her eyes with a scowl as Proudmoore caught up to her. The human panted, apparently unused to trouncing through such terrain. Not for the first time, Sylvanas caught herself wondering how humans managed to survive.

 

“Yes,” Sylvanas answered, stepping off without allowing for further comment. They had quite a distance to travel before reaching uncharted land, and Sylvanas was not willing to let Proudmoore catch her breath enough to start some sort of  _ conversation. _

 

However, even Sylvanas began to tire, the lack of proper rest catching up with her after a few more hours. Peering through the greenery, she came to an abrupt halt in a small clearing. “We’ll rest here for a few minutes.”

 

Proudmoore let out a sigh of what Sylvanas could only assume was relief as she braced against a tree. “You’re like a workhorse, you know that?” Proudmoore panted.

 

Sylvanas' lips curled in a delightful smirk, though she kept her gaze directed onward. The steady thrum of her heart brought some comfort to her ache, and it had been the longest she had gone without an attack in the last few days. Apparently exercise did her some good on this infernal island.

 

Proudmoore sank down to sit against her chosen tree, bracing her wrists atop her knees. “Look, we don’t have to be friends, but giving me the silent treatment is a little uncalled for at this point, don’t you think?”

 

Sylvanas rolled her eyes as she turned to face Proudmoore. “You are the one panting like a hound in a summer heat.”

 

“Well, you could just  _ slow down. _ ”

 

Sylvanas tilted her head. “I recall warning you to keep up, Proudmoore.”

 

“Why do you keep calling me that?” The question caught Sylvanas off guard, her head snapping upright once more. She had taken to using Jaina’s surname instead of title over the last few days. In fact, she hadn’t noticed the shift herself, until Jaina pointed it out.

 

“It’s less of a mouthful,” Sylvanas lied.

 

Jaina narrowed her eyes. “That seems unlikely.”

 

Sylvanas scoffed as she looked away, unwilling to humor the line of conversation further. Yet, the woman persisted. “Is it because you realize I’m not your enemy here? That I’m actually providing solutions to this shitshow of a situation we both landed in? Is it because you-”

 

“ _ Silence _ ,” Sylvanas hissed, her ears perked toward the forest. Something was wrong. The cheerful bird song had all but ceased, leaving the clearing eerily silent without Jaina’s incessant prattling. She sent her ears swivelling as a chill rose up her back. Sylvanas unslung her bow. 

 

Jaina stood, seeming to take note of the change in Sylvanas’s posture. She watched the elf closely, gesturing in question.

 

As Sylvanas turned to address the woman, she caught the slightest glint of light behind Jaina.  _ Eyes. _

 

“GET DOWN!”

 

\---

 

Jaina dived forward without hesitation. The wildcat pounced, clawing the ground where she had been seconds prior with a roar. As Jaina shuffled backward, scrambling to get her legs underneath her, an arrow sprouted from the creature’s flank. Jaina spared a quick glance toward Sylvanas. The elf had another arrow nocked, ready to fire.

 

The wildcat growled, undeterred by the wound. It prowled toward Jaina before pouncing again. 

 

Jaina let loose a yelp as Sylvanas yanked her out of the way. The elf stood between Jaina and the predator, letting loose two more arrows. “Take my sword!”

 

Jaina spotted the blade on Sylvanas’s hip. Grabbing it as she stood, Jaina brandished the weapon toward the wildcat. “I thought cats fled if their first attack failed.”

 

Sylvanas’s response was cut off as the wildcat attacked. Both women dived in opposite directions, Sylvanas rising to her feet quicker. Jaina, on the other hand, stumbled onto her back. The wildcat leaped on her in an instant. Jaina barely managed to get the sword between the cat’s massive jaws in time. Pushing upward with all her might, Jaina struggled to keep from being mauled. Claws dug into her shoulders as the massive beast pressed downward.

 

Just as suddenly as the cat had appeared, the beast was sent sprawling. Jaina blinked, spotting Sylvanas wrestling the beast. She was shocked at Sylvanas’s strength. The elf’s shoulders flexed, attempting to pin the wildcat. A few scant seconds of struggle passed until Jaina watched claws rake across Sylvanas’s torso.

 

An infernal screech resounded across the landscape, causing Jaina to clamp her hands over her ears. The piercing noise penetrated into her very mind, spawning images of misery and death.  _ Bodies, left carelessly across a field of war. Skintones blue, green and grey. Lanky, tusked… otherworldly. _ Jaina curled inward as her head pounded in time with her heart, a radiating heat of agony. 

 

It took Jaina several minutes to pull her mind from the assaulting imagery. Sitting up with a groan, she spotted Sylvanas writhing on the ground beside the desiccated corpse of the wildcat. 

 

Jaina dropped the sword and rushed over to Sylvanas, ignoring the corpse for now. “Sylvanas…” The elf clawed at her own chest sightlessly, mouth agape in a silent scream. Jaina knelt, capturing Sylvanas’s wrists and pinning them to the ground. “Sylvanas!”

  
Steel-grey eyes glowed a dull red as they briefly focused on Jaina. “ _ Eranu…” _ Then Sylvanas went limp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ban'dinoriel - the Elven Gates  
> Eranu - forget


	11. Wail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahem... this was a bitch and a half to edit, so I deeply apologize if it feels... iffy? I'm just at the point to throw up my hands and say fuck it.
> 
> So here's that much awaited BACKSTORY.

_Pain radiated across her body, spreading along her nerves like wildfire. Her muscles clenched, coiling up like a thousand angry snakes. Sylvanas clamped her mouth shut, ever aware of the potential for destruction to slither out of her throat. She would not give in, not again._

 

_Barking laughter flooded the dark, empty space encompassing her. Sylvanas recognized the unsettling sound, fighting against her stiffened body to at least address its owner with some semblance of dignity. Her plane of existence shifted until she was pinned against an unseen wall, feet dangling uselessly beneath her._

 

_“Hello again, Runner of winds…”_

 

_Sylvanas's eyes landed on a face she dreaded. Bleached bone spread across a long brow and around sharp eye sockets, extending into a row of sharp teeth. Two thick tusks curled forward, caging her head and forcing her to meet the blue, wispy eyes of the figure._

 

_“Bwonsamdi,” Sylvanas growled through clenched teeth. The ever-present specter of her nightmares._

 

_His lower lip curled around his tusks in a sickening stretch. “You have been ignoring me lately, elfie.” Bwonsamdi leaned in close enough that Sylvanas could smell the decay wafting off his breath. “How rude of you.”_

 

_Sylvanas glowered back at him, summoning every ounce of malice she could to pour into her gaze. Had she possessed the will, she would have spat back in his face._

 

_Bwonsamdi laughed. “After all the gifts I’ve given you.”_

 

 _“This_ **_curse_** _, you mean.”_

 

_He did not deny it. Instead, Bwonsamdi pulled away from her, his energy still holding her aloft. Crossing his arms, he addressed her with a smug tone. “You may be wanting to reconsider your view of me, all things considered.”_

 

 _“After all you took from me?!” Sylvanas snarled. “My people, my home. My_ **_peace_** _!”_

 

_Bwonsamdi clicked his tongue in chastisement. “A deal is a deal. It is not my fault you forgot to read the fine print.”_

 

_Sylvanas swallowed her rage, fists clenched at her sides. It did her little use in prior encounters, and he gave no indication it concerned him now._

 

_“Now,” Bwonsamdi began again. “I have a few words for you. You tread on lands that revile you, feast on the very power I have granted.” Sylvanas narrowed her eyes as he spoke. He rarely spoke plainly, though she sensed now was the time to take particular note._

 

_“If you will not be leaving soon, those powers will start seeking out your very soul.” Bwonsamdi paused, tilting his head to the side in a mockery of sympathy. “You do not want that, now do you?”_

 

_“Cease with the riddles, troll.”_

 

_Despite her vile tone, he laughed once more. “Ah, I knew I liked your fire, elfie.” Bwonsamdi suddenly turned cold, eyes flaring. “Get yourself away from this island. And do not be forgetting our deal.”_

 

_He began to fade into the dark ether of Sylvanas’ mind. Bitterly, she called after him as her consciousness faded deeper. “How could I-”_

 

\---

 

**DAY 7**

 

The sky greyed steadily as the hours dragged on. Jaina had managed to staunch Sylvanas’s bleeding, but the elf’s unconscious state showed no sign of waning. So Jaina waited.

 

 _Why do I care?_ Jaina asked herself for the fifth time, glancing around the clearing. It never bothered her before, to see a pirate injured or incapacitated. But try as she might to dismiss her concern, Jaina felt she owed vigilance to Sylvanas. If not for the elf, Jaina would be in a similar state, assuming she even managed to dispatch the wildcat. Her gaze shifted over to the dessicated corpse.

 

Jaina walked over to the specimen, crouching to get a better look. The once powerful beast has shrunken into a dry husk of its former self. Its skin sunk inward, showing the sharp angles of bone beneath. Dark fur that shined in the sun had grown dull. Jaina placed her hand over the cat’s shoulder, noting the rough texture of its coat with a frown. It seemed something had siphoned the very life out of the creature.

 

 _Or, Sylvanas._ Jaina looked back at the elf, brow furrowed.

 

Jaina could not deny the existence of magic. Not with the illusory barrier encompassing the island. But bearing witness to Sylvanas's power left her with more questions than answers.

 

The sky grumbled with thunder, drawing Jaina’s gaze upwards. She recognized the coming rain in the dark, heavy clouds overhead. She bit her lip. If she didn’t do something soon, Jaina and Sylvanas would find themselves drenched through to the bone in a few minutes. 

 

Jaina huffed as she approached Sylvanas, kneeling beside the elf. “Hopefully you’re not as heavy as you look,” she muttered, shifting Sylvanas’s dead weight to rest over her shoulders. Jaina wrapped her arms around the elf's leg and arm, securing her grip before standing. Her tired legs shook under the strain. 

 

Surveying the area, Jaina’s eyes landed on the fallen bow. Something drew her toward it. Jaina let out an exasperated huff, maneuvering toward the fallen weapon. It took a few tries and shifts of the unconscious elf slung across her shoulders, but eventually Jaina seized Sylvanas's bow in her free hand.

 

With a groan and roll of her shoulders, Jaina set off into the forest. While Sylvanas was lighter than a human of her size, the weight strained Jaina’s stamina. The rain broke from the clouds in a few minutes, only contributing to her silent misery. She trudged forward, muttering a prayer to the Tidemother that she might find shelter soon. 

 

Jaina’s prayers were answered. The trees parted to reveal a rocky outcropping, large enough for her and Sylvanas to huddle underneath. She breathed a sigh of relief and veered toward the opening. Leaning the bow against the stone, Jaina lowered herself onto one knee before depositing her charge. 

 

Jaina collapsed beside the elf. Her head tilted back to rest against the rough rock, eyes drifting closed. Exhaustion creeped into her bones and along her muscles, tempting her with the sweet bliss of sleep, but she shook herself awak. Jaina’s gaze fell on Sylvanas once more. The elf looked so… _vulnerable._  

 

Jaina reached out to retrieve the bow, bracing it across her knees. She frowned as she realized Sylvanas’s quiver had been left behind, but something drove her to wield the weapon regardless. Jaina sighed as her gaze returned to the dense forest surrounding them. The possibility of other hostile wildlife served to keep her vigilant.

 

“Where are we?” Jaina jumped at the sudden query from her companion. Glancing to the side, she saw Sylvanas staring back at her, red glow faded from silver eyes.

 

“I don’t know,” Jaina replied with a shrug. “I figured it would be better to get you out of the rain.”

 

Sylvanas glanced at the wet landscape with a small nod. Jaina watched as the elf took a cursory scan of her wounds and shifted to sit upright. “My bow-”

 

“Here.” Jaina offered the fine weapon over to Sylvanas. The pirate stared back at her for a few seconds before accepting it. _I don’t really know why I’m giving it back, either,_ Jaina admitted to herself, answering the question she saw in Sylvanas’s gaze.

 

"Thank you." 

 

Jaina blinked at the quiet words. "It's nothing," she muttered.

 

Sylvanas ran her hands along the bow with a sigh. Jaina couldn't help comparing the sight to a child clutching their favored plush animal. It was almost cute. 

 

The questions from earlier burned within Jaina’s mind, breathing new vigor into her exhausted body. She stared at her companion until she could hold back her queries no more. "What did you do?"

 

Sylvanas's ears lowered as she refused to meet Jaina's gaze. Jaina wished she had a better view of the elf’s face as she waited for some kind of response. “How much did Sanguinar tell you?”

 

Jaina furrowed her brow, caught unaware by the question. She recalled her conversation in Fen’harel over a week prior. “She said you were… ‘Silvermoon’s Ranger General.’ But you were banished?”

 

Sylvanas let out a bitter laugh. “Yes, so much for centuries of faithful service.” She met Jaina’s inquisitive gaze. “I was banished because of a _mistake.”_

 

Jaina failed to see the connection between Sylvanas’s ability and this mistake, but didn’t interrupt.

 

“While patrolling our borders, my company and I came upon a temple,” Sylvanas continued. “We could all feel the powerful magic permeating the ruin. I took my two best rangers inside to explore, while the rest stayed above. I thought perhaps I could find a boon that could end our ceaseless war with the trolls.” 

 

Jaina had heard of trolls, though she had never seen one in person or illustration. In fact, she had believed they were extinct, only to inhabit the pages of history tomes chronicling the rise and fall of Alteraci humans. Jaina was getting used to her beliefs being proved false.

 

“Instead, I found only death and suffering,” Sylvanas spat, clutching her bow with white knuckles. “I was cursed with a wail of destruction. In my… _weakness_ , I released such power on my own people.” She glanced at Jaina. “Only Anya and Velonara survived.”

 

Jaina swallowed her gasp. She tried to understand the hurt and remorse the event must have caused Sylvanas. How would she feel, if in trying to rid the world of piracy, her entire crew had perished? For once, she felt true sympathy for the woman before her.

 

“Of course,” Sylvanas continued, vitriol dripping from her words. “The _bureaucrats_ of Silvermoon did not believe myself or my lieutenants that the tragedy was not intentional. They banished me, and then Anya and Velonara soon thereafter.”

 

Jaina digested Sylvanas’s tale as the elf watched her. Besides the insight it gave her into Sylvanas's abilities, Jaina's penchant for empathy led to a clinging sense of despair. The betrayal Sylvanas felt was clear. She had sought to protect her people, only to become the cause of their demise. Instead of seeking to understand and rehabilitate, her nation had condemned her.

 

Still, Jaina's burning curiosity remained unsatisfied. She cleared her throat. “So… that scream-”

 

“Yes,” Sylvanas cut her off. Jaina’s brow furrowed as Sylvanas’s ears twitched. “A manifestation of the pain I constantly bear.”

 

Jaina shook her head. One answer only led to a hundred other questions. They rebelled against the confines of her skull. Emboldened by Sylvanas’s apparent willingness to speak, Jaina let her dam of propriety shatter. “But how does it work? What exactly does it do? Obviously it’s magical, but _how?”_

 

Sylvanas laughed, cutting Jaina’s line of questioning short. The elf’s shoulders remained tense, rolled back in a tight coil. “Magic isn’t something you can explain, Proudmoore. All I’ve gathered is the strength of the wail depends on how long I’ve gone without using it. Sometimes it is a simple wave of force, other times it… disintegrates my foes.”

 

Jaina’s eyes widened. _Disintegrates?_ The idea alone was mind boggling, but how else could she describe what had happened to the wildcat? Almost as if any liquid within it had instantly evaporated. Jaina shuddered when she imagined that power turned on _her._

 

Jaina noted the slight decline in Sylvanas’s ears, the way the elf shifted slightly away from her. She frowned. _Why does she look so uncomfortable suddenly? Like I’m to be feared._ Afraid Sylvanas might fall silent and leave dozens of other questions unanswered, Jaina pressed on. "How do you know so much about magic? Is it… common in your homeland? Like the illusory barrier?"

 

Sylvanas sighed, shaking her head as her gaze drifted to the side. “Nothing so obvious exists in Quel’thalas anymore, though the arcane is everywhere. We elves can feel magic as easily as you can feel the wind.” Jaina watched as the elf’s ears lowered, lending a wistful expression. “Walking through Eversong is like wading through a gentle eddy of magic.” 

 

Jaina could hear the nostalgia and longing quiver in Sylvanas’s voice. She found herself wishing she could see this ‘Eversong’. Or, rather, that she could see Sylvanas wandering through a place she spoke so fondly of. Would the elf be different, given a disparate environment? Judging by Sylvanas’s yearning expression, Jaina imagined so. “It sounds breathtaking.”

 

“It is,” Sylvanas whispered, looking down as her ears drooped again. 

 

Jaina found herself missing the look of peace as it faded from the elf’s face. She wanted to fan that small ember she had caught a glimpse of, to soothe Sylvanas with the warmth of home. 

 

Until Jaina’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. 

 

The vulnerability Sylvanas displayed was incongruous to what Jaina knew of the reclusive pirate. It didn’t make sense for Sylvanas to weave poetic words about a distant homeland. Jaina frowned, suspecting an ulterior motive to the elf’s story. “Why tell me all this?” 

 

Sylvanas met her gaze. “Why, indeed, Grand Admiral?” she responded, voice acquiescent.

 

Jaina’s frown grew deeper, frustrated with having her question answered by another. What game was the elf playing? An attempt for sympathy? That seemed out of character for one of the most fearsome pirate captains in recent memory. 

 

_And yet…_

 

And yet Jaina _was_ sympathetic to Sylvanas’s tale. That fact should have startled Jaina more than it did. The Banshee Queen was a criminal, a merciless soul who would cut a bloody path through innocents to secure whatever she wanted. She deserved neither sympathy nor mercy from the Grand Admiral.

 

But looking at the elf sitting beside her, Jaina did not see a pirate. Jaina saw a soldier, tired and weary, cast aside by the people she had sworn to protect. Jaina saw an elf who had been so reviled by those around her that she had molded herself into the very menace others claimed her to be. Jaina saw a woman resigned to judgment.

 

Sylvanas didn’t expect sympathy. She expected hatred.

 

So Jaina did the very last thing Sylvanas would expect. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against the elf’s.

 

\---

 

When Sylvanas awoke in a cave with Jaina beside her, she knew there would be no easy way to avoid explaining herself. She wasn’t sure what she expected as she spilled her story, editing out the few parts only _she_ knew. But the human _kissing her_ was _not_ it.

 

Jaina’s lips were warm against her own, chapped and fuller than expected. Sylvanas lost herself for a moment in the sensation of them shifting against her own. Warmth she had not experienced in _decades_ blossomed in her chest. For once, she felt no searing weight lodged in her scar. 

 

Sylvanas pressed back against those lips, embracing the subtle sweet taste of another. She felt a buzzing undercurrent traverse across skin and found herself craving more. Her hand raised to the back of Jaina's head, loath to allow the intoxicating contact to end. Her fingers burrowed into silken locks with abandon.

 

It had been _too long_ since Sylvanas had kissed a woman. While her previous encounters had only been with her own race, she found Jaina's soft curves a welcome change to angular features. Her nostrils flared, inhaling Jaina’s invigorating scent of salty sea foam and clove. A soft groan escaped between them, though Sylvanas was unsure which of them had uttered it.

 

A probing tongue swept across Sylvanas’s lower lip. She allowed it passage, ears drooping as a touch of sour mingled in her mouth. She felt hands grasp at her shoulders, pulling her closer before leaving a burning trail up her neck to her hairline. Sylvanas’s head tipped to the right, seeking to close distance further.

 

Sylvanas floated on air as her hands took on minds of their own, slipping under Jaina’s shirt to splay across planes of flesh. Jaina was soft, almost pliable under her fingertips, a thin layer of fat masking harsh muscle beneath. 

 

Sylvanas attempted to chase after Jaina as the human pulled scant inches away. Her eyes opened to meet Jaina’s. She swallowed the gasp in her throat at the _lust_ she found swirling within stormy blue irises.

 

The sound of cracking underbrush jerked Sylvanas out of the regretfully short moment, her gaze snapping to the woods below as her hands leapt to the bow in her lap. Jaina turned to watch the forest just as Anya and Velonara sprinted into view.

 

 _“General!”_ Velonara shouted, shortening her stride as she spotted them.

 

Sylvanas swallowed, her mouth dry. _“Here.”_

 

Anya approached first, glaring at Jaina. Her ears tilted forward with aggression before relaxing in a neutral position as she met Sylvanas’s gaze. _“We heard-”_

 

 _“The threat has passed,”_ Sylvanas snapped, slipping back into her command presence. It concerned her that she had become so vulnerable, alone with Proudmoore. She attempted to stand with a groan, both Anya and Proudmoore moving to give aid. Sylvanas glared at the human.

 

Proudmoore stopped and looked away, lips pressed together as she stood.

 

Sylvanas braced against Anya’s offered hand, allowing her lieutenant to pull her to her feet. _“You’re injured,”_ Anya commented, eyes surveying the raking claw marks across Sylvanas’s torso.

 

 _“I’m fine,”_ Sylvanas assured her. They were mostly superficial, thankfully. _“Simply… tired.”_  

 

Anya’s ears dipped in sympathy, understanding the meaning behind Sylvanas’s words. She wrapped her arm around Sylvanas’s back to brace her general. _“Then let’s get back to camp.”_ Sylvanas leaned against her lieutenant as she looked back at Velonara. 

 

The elf surveyed Sylvanas and Proudmoore with intent, scanning both with a diligence Sylvanas had come to expect. And, in this case, dread. But if Velonara noticed anything out of place, she gave no indication, simply falling into step beside Proudmoore in front of Sylvanas.

 

Sylvanas clenched her jaw to hold back a sigh, gaze falling on Proudmoore. The human glanced over her shoulder, meeting Sylvanas’s gaze for a brief moment. Sylvanas swore concern shined in those stormy blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... also that much awaited gayness?
> 
> I won't be updating the tags for this chapter forward, because I realize it will totally ruin any surprises I have planned for the future. So.. yes, Bwonsamdi's a character, but no, I won't tag him.


	12. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being.. so... very kindly soothed by my beta reader Rae D Magdon that I am in fact not off my rocker and wrote everything just fine... I bring you the next chapter!
> 
> Gods, I really should be working on schoolwork, but I cannot help it. Enjoy!

**DAY 12**

 

Jaina huffed as she wiped the back of her hand across her brow. She braced her hands on her hips with a deep scowl, surveying the scattered bits of canvas stretched across the sand before her. For the seventeenth time that day, Jaina cursed herself for not taking an interest in sewing like  _ sensible _ royal daughters.

 

Regardless of the tattered state of  _ The Banshee’s Wail _ ’s former sails, the canvas had been a fortuitous find. Jaina had yet to figure out an alternative for sails, so when Sylvanas returned from scouting the other side of the island with the material, Jaina gave thanks to the Tidemother for small miracles.

 

Of course, she now had the task of connecting the scraps into some feasible shape. It was not going well. It didn't help that for the better part of the day, Jaina's mind drifted toward other topics besides surge stitching. 

 

_ Why am I such a Tides-damned fool? _ Days' worth of separation from her impulsive actions with Sylvanas had granted Jaina ample time to evaluate her folly. At the time, she thought she had been overcome with the desire to make Sylvanas feel understood. Now, Jaina realized the ill advised kiss had been driven by more than just her bleeding heart.

 

_ I need to get laid,  _ Jaina thought as she knelt beside her project. While her hands set about laying stitches across torn fabric, her mind conjured images of cream colored skin beneath it. Platinum blonde hair framing silver eyes. Half swallowed groans under delicious lips.

 

"Fuck!" Jaina spat as the thread slipped free of her needle. She fell back on her heels with an anguished groan, head tilting back. Her gaze fell on the apathetic sky, noting the declining sun.

 

Heaving a sigh, she slid her legs out from under her to stand. There was no point trying to continue with night approaching. She stowed the needle in her pocket and stooped to roll up her meager attempt at a main sail, resigning to continuing tomorrow.

 

Jaina had hoped taking her project to the beach would yield better results than back at camp. While it led to a loss in time due to travel, camp held too many distractions. Well, one very big distraction. 

 

Jaina hoisted the bundled fabric over her shoulder as she set off back to camp, continuing to muse. Sylvanas hadn't spoken a word to her since the other elves found them in that cave. Jaina noted the elf's avoiding behavior with dread. As if it weren't enough for them to be at odds because of their opposing lots in life, Jaina had gone and made their working relationship even more strained by failing to keep a leash on her pesky attractions. 

 

_ Why is it always the bad girls? _

 

As an heir to a nation, Jaina had scant opportunities to pursue lovers in her life. The few women who caught her fancy overwhelmingly fell on the darker sides of the tracks. Those with more stringent morals came off as too dull or overly flattered to pique Jaina's interest. One past relationship had resulted in an actual court martial.

 

Jaina found a sick sense of irony that her attractions had latched onto  _ the _ most infamous pirate of the seas.

 

Despite Sylvanas's attempts to avoid her, their communal circumstances forced at least some passing interaction. With the elf wandering around the fringes of camp, Jaina failed to keep her mind on task. Her eyes strayed from thread and fabric to land on skin and muscle. 

 

Jaina stirred from her thoughts as she caught hushed whispers off the path leading back to camp. Frowning, she veered toward the sound, picking her way through underbrush. Jaina halted when she spotted the source of the noise.

 

Anya and Velonara stood together in a small clearing, bickering in their illusive tongue. Jaina could catch syllables at her distance, but she failed to make any sense of the words. Anya stood with her back toward Jaina, with her partner facing her. A ray of sunlight glinted off the dagger Velonara dragged along the other elf's jaw.

 

Jaina watched with fascination and curiosity. Her brow furrowed with confusion, wondering if she was witnessing some kind of elven tradition, or just the beginning of a debased affair. Alarmed by the idea, and that she was  _ still watching _ , Jaina spun to flee the scene as rapidly as she could.

 

Jaina’s foot landed on a twig, reverberating with a damning snap.

 

Both elves’ eyes locked on to Jaina, ears tilted back. Jaina cleared her throat. “Sorry.” She gestured over her shoulder. “I was just heading back to camp.”

 

Anya’s brow furrowed as Velonara lowered her dagger. Their ears twitched in what Jaina assumed was varying levels of agitation. Anya opened her mouth to speak, before the other elf tapped her forearm. The briefest of exchanges seemed to occur silently between them as Jaina resisted the urge to shift her weight between her legs. Jaina was tempted to take the opportunity to leave, but before she could move to do so, Anya locked eyes with her once again.

 

“The path is that way,” Anya indicated with a stiff nod.

 

“Right,” Jaina replied, looking between the two elves. A beat of awkward silence spanned between them. “I’m… going to go now.” 

 

Jaina turned on her heel, catching Anya’s muttered  _ kim’zar _ as she went.

 

\---

 

Sylvanas watched Jaina breach the treeline into camp, walking swiftly for the fire where Lilian already sat. The admiral launched into a conversation with the other woman as the two seemed to have developed a fast friendship. Sylvanas noted Jaina’s speech sped past her usual cadence with cocked ears. Curious creature.

 

She had avoided Jaina as much as possible since their heated rendezvous in the woods. In her moment of weakness, she had relished the intimate contact. How long had it been since she allowed anyone to touch her, besides Anya and Velonara’s scant gestures of camaraderie? Long before Zul’Aman, surely. Sylvanas still was unsure what had led her to drop her guard, but she could not deny her desire for more of Jaina’s tenderness. That was simply unacceptable.

 

In moments when she found herself alone, Sylvanas’s mind meandered back to the subject of Jaina. The woman had become a frustrating puzzle. Sylvanas doubted Jaina had a genuine interest in her beyond simple lust. Perhaps the woman sought to undermine her control over the situation, only to yank the rug out from under Sylvanas’s feet once they succeeded in escaping the island. She had seen far too many humans do it before.

 

If it were simple lust, Sylvanas would know how to react. Allow the infatuation, release tidbits of attention to keep Jaina engaged, and keep her own walls up. It was a dance she had mastered before even ascending to Ranger General. Why was it so difficult to stay detached now?

 

Sylvanas’s thoughts paused as she noted her lieutenants’ return. Anya stalked toward her, ears pinned back in rage, Velonara trailing behind.  _ “If I hear a single Sun-damned ‘pretty boy’, I will cut out her tongue with a jagged stone,”  _ Anya fumed.

 

Sylvanas raised a brow in question. Velonara shook her head.  _ “The mage stumbled upon us while I was helping Anya groom.” _

 

Sylvanas frowned. Humans were cruel creatures, something Anya had learned better than anyone. Typically, if any of the human crew on  _ The Banshee’s Wail _ questioned why their master gunner kept a keen shaving razor and opted to bathe privately, Sylvanas put an end to the queries immediately. On rare occasions where that failed, Sylvanas did not intervene when Anya took the matter into her own hands.

 

Unfortunately, they  _ needed _ Jaina. Sylvanas took a steadying breath.  _ “I will see to it that it doesn’t come up.” _

 

Anya narrowed her eyes, not looking convinced. 

 

_ “Stand down, ranger.” _

 

Anya let out a huff before storming away.  _ “I’m going hunting,” _ she explained over her shoulder.

 

Sylvanas watched her go, shaking her head as she turned her attention back to her bedroll. Velonara still stood in the entrance of the shelter.  _ “May I have a word, General?” _

 

Sylvanas looked over her shoulder. Her lieutenant’s arms were crossed, face set in a stern expression.  _ Lovely,  _ Sylvanas thought. Aloud, she replied,  _ “What is it?” _

 

Velonara glanced to the side.  _ “Perhaps away from camp?” _

 

Sylvanas paused, ears twitching. She debated denying Velonara’s request, but if her lieutenant wanted to have a conversation away from even the potential of Anya’s ears, it could only mean a select few things. Releasing a resigned sigh, Sylvanas nodded and led away from camp. Once the trees surrounded them, she spoke without stopping,  _ “Speak.” _

 

Velonara’s ears twitched.  _ “You need to figure out what is going on between you and Proudmoore, Syl.” _

 

Sylvanas snorted, her lips pressed into a grim line.  _ “Straight to the nicknames, then?” _

 

_ “I wouldn’t care if you just fucked her and called it a day,” _ Velonara continued. _ “Anya and I have been trying to get you to open up to the possibility of bedding  _ **_someone_ ** _ for years now. But avoiding each other around camp? Even Voss is noticing.” _

 

_ “Why must you be so meddlesome in my love life?” _ Sylvanas grumbled, far too irate to have even the illusion of patience with the topic of conversation.

 

_ “Because we care about you.  _ **_I_ ** _ care about you, beyond the mask you wear.”  _ Velonara veered ahead of Sylvanas, forcing her to stop.  _ “I don’t know exactly how far you two got before we arrived, but it’s plain as the sunrise that there’s something unfinished between you.” _

 

Sylvanas clenched her jaw, feeling the subtle itch of power bubbling in her throat.  _ “There is nothing  _ **_unfinished_ ** _ between Jaina and I.” _

 

_ “Really?” _ Velonara raised a brow, right ear tilting outward.  _ “When’s the last time you called anyone by their first name, besides Anya and myself?” _

 

_ Shit.  _ Sylvanas grinded her teeth together, unable to deflect Velonara’s keen observation. If she paused to be honest with herself, Jaina had ceased being her enemy even before the incident in the woods. Sylvanas deflated with a sigh, her gaze shifting away from the other elf as her ears drooped.  _ “Is it that obvious?” _ she muttered.

 

_ “No,” _ Velonara assured as she rested her hand on Sylvanas’s shoulder.  _ “I just know you better than most, Syl.” _

 

There was truth to Velonara’s words, Sylvanas knew. Over a century ago, they knew everything about each other. Sylvanas sometimes theorized if she had not inherited the title of Ranger General, they would still be together. She had believed she would never feel as comfortable with another soul as she had with Velonara. Here, alone in the forest with only Velonara’s gaze to witness it, Sylvanas could admit that Jaina might prove her wrong. 

 

_ “What advice do you have, Nara?” _ Sylvanas asked, forcing her gaze back to her friend.

 

Velonara visibly relaxed and squeezed Sylvanas’s shoulder in encouragement.  _ “Well… I think for all the pomp you put behind looking down on humans, it was only inevitable that you would fuck one.”  _ She chuckled and removed her hand.  _ “And it’s just your draw weight to choose your ardent rival.” _

 

Sylvanas groaned, but she could not stop the small smirk forming on her features.  _ “This is a terrible idea.” _

 

_ “Most of your personal life has been fraught with them,” _ Velonara agreed.  _ “But,”  _ she prodded Sylvanas's ribs to accent her point,  _ “You deserve happiness, Sylvanas. If you can find that in a human who was set on arresting us two weeks ago, then don’t let your foolish propriety get in the way.” _

 

Sylvanas rolled her eyes.  _ “It’s less propriety and more concern she has ulterior motives.” _

 

Velonara stared at her, responding in a deadpan tone,  _ “Sylvanas. She turned redder than a hawkstrider in mating season the first time she saw you. And we were in the middle of  _ **_fighting_ ** _ each other. I don’t think she’s capable of playing that kind of game.” _

 

_ “I still have to be prepared--” _

 

Velonara placed her hands on either side of Sylvanas’s face, demanding full attention.  _ “Stop.”  _

 

Sylvanas huffed a breath, nostrils flaring as she met Velonara’s gaze.  _ “You know I can’t.” _

 

_ “Nonsense,” _ Velonara countered.  _ “You did for me.” _

 

Sylvanas frowned.  _ “You were different. You  _ **_allowed_ ** _ no different.” _

 

Velonara snickered, releasing Sylvanas with a light pat.  _ “I get the impression she might not be so different in that regard. Still,”  _ Velonara afixed a pointed stare in her direction,  _ “we are all stuck here. Just figure something out so you aren’t both avoiding each other. I remember you had more tact than that.” _

 

Sylvanas rolled her eyes, but nodded in agreement.  _ “Very well.”  _ She took a deep breath to compose herself before following Velonara back to camp.

 

\---

 

Lilian prodded the meat roasting over the fire as she glanced up at Jaina’s approach. “Make any progress?”

 

Jaina shook her head as she dropped the bundle of canvas. It made a heavy thump upon hitting the ground. “I was never good at sewing. I just don’t have the patience for it. Every other stitch I end up losing the thread, and then I have to spend another minute trying to feed it back through the eye.” She took a seat beside the fire, resisting the urge to search for Sylvanas. "I never made a good princess."

 

Lilian snorted. “I thought you prissy, entitled fucks all learn that sort of thing.”

 

Jaina chuckled, not bothered by Lilian’s rough turn of phrase. Growing up around sailors made it all the easier to adapt to the Lordaeronian. “Oh, I know  _ how _ to sew.” Jaina braced her arms across her knees as she looked up at Lilian. “That doesn’t mean I’m any good at it.”

 

Lilian shrugged, falling silent. The fire crackled and hissed as juices from their evening meal dripped onto the coals. Jaina tracked the floating embers, stirred by a sense of homesickness. She missed Modera. What she wouldn’t give for her friend’s advice. 

 

“You look like you need to take a massive shit.”

 

Jaina snorted, a small smile cracking her exterior. She shook her head and looked up at Lilian. “Has anyone ever told you you have such a way with words?”

 

Lilian beamed. “Everyone fucking ever.”

 

Jaina shook her head with a grin. After a few weeks with the pirates, she had come to find each of them rebelled against her preconceptions. Sylvanas, while stern, took her people’s concerns into consideration before choosing a course of action instead of demanding obedience like a ham-fisted tyrant. Velonara and Anya’s fierce loyalty to one another was apparent in how they were nigh inseparable, contrasting to the ‘every man for himself’ nature Jaina had seen previously. And Lilian acted more like a grizzled Kul Tiran veteran than a young woman from the mainland had any right to. Watching their interactions, and then later integrating into their system, Jaina learned that perhaps they weren’t so evil after all. She could even call Lilian her friend.

 

_ You also kissed the captain,  _ her memory was quick to remind Jaina. The thought chased her smile away as she sunk back into disconcerting thought.

 

“Okay,” Lilian started. “Spit it out, anchor weight. Or go over there and shit it out.” She pointed toward the latrine.

 

Jaina frowned. Would it really matter if she talked to Lilian about her brash encounter with Sylvanas? She doubted the woman would have as sound advice as Modera, but at this point she needed to get someone’s opinion. No one  _ else _ was offering. If Jaina continued to mull the situation over alone, she’d go mad.

 

“I kissed Sylvanas.”

 

There was a beat of silence before Lilian burst into laughter. “I fucking  _ knew _ it!” Lilian cackled. “I wish I had someone to bet with on this bloody island, dammit.” 

 

Jaina blinked. Was it really that obvious? She cleared her throat and shifted as youthful embarrassment blossomed in her cheeks. Lilian seemed to notice, settling down as she looked back at Jaina. “So, what’s the problem then?”

 

“Besides the fact you’re all pirates?”

 

“Oh, come on,” Lilian replied, head tilting back to direct the query at the darkening sky. “Don’t be such a tight ass.”

 

Jaina squared her shoulders. “While you have all proven cooperative, I can’t forget you’re still criminals.”

 

Lilian sighed. “After all the meals I’ve cooked you, you’d still watch me hang.”

 

“I didn’t say that!” Jaina exclaimed, quick to defend the closest thing she had to a friend on the island. But with a sense of dread, she realized that was exactly what she had said. “... I would see that you all had reduced sentences. You have your reasons for what you’ve done, spurred on by necessity. I don’t believe it would be fair to execute you for trying to survive.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Lilian sounded unconvinced. “You know,  _ The Banshee’s Wail _ isn’t my first pirate ship. Before that, I ran with the  _ Scarlet Maiden _ , under Captain Whitemane.” 

 

Jaina winced. She had captured that same ship three years ago. Every prisoner hung. The thought that roudy, humorous Lilian could have been among them caused her chest to seize in sympathy.

 

Lilian nodded with a grimace, seeming to notice Jaina’s reaction. “Yup. Whitemane was a fucking bitch, so I don’t miss her. But there was a boy, Darion, younger than me, on that crew. Joined right before I left, in fact. I bet you didn’t consider that he had grown up in the streets of Capital City, starving, before he walked his ass all the way to the sea. He never hurt anyone, just wanted to feed folks. He told me he would take his cut until he had enough to buy an inn in a sleepy little town, and then he’d leave. Bet you didn’t consider he still hung with the rest of ‘em.”

 

Jaina stared at the ground, unable to meet Lilian’s gaze. “I… no, I hadn’t.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat.

 

“Of course you didn’t,” Lilian replied with false cheer. “The Alliance never does. We’re just fucking rats at the end of the day.” She prodded the meat over the fire again, before setting about removing it from heat. “I’ll tell you, running with the Banshee?  _ She  _ never made me feel like a rat.”

 

Jaina sat in uncomfortable silence, hugging her knees into her chest and resting her chin on her forearms. “I’m sorry.”

 

Lilian snorted. “Look, Grand Admiral --” The use of her title made Jaina wince. “-- apologies don’t mean shit when people are dead. I haven’t been a saint myself, but if your trouble with Cap’n is the fact that she’s killed people? Look in a fucking mirror.”

 

Jaina nodded, staring into the fire. Lilian left without another word, taking dinner with her and leaving Jaina to contemplate in peace. The Lordaeronian was right. Jaina’s hands were just as bloody as Sylvanas’s. Regardless of the laws backing her actions, she had hurt and killed innocents based off of assumptions. She never stopped to question if each member of a pirate crew deserved their punishment. It was simpler to condemn them all.

 

With a groan, Jaina fell onto her back. She laced her fingers behind her head and stared up at the darkening sky. As a girl, Jaina prided herself on her curiosity and willingness to see others’ sides. She believed true justice required understanding. But at some point along the way, she had grown cold toward piracy. All Jaina saw was the effects on the innocent left behind following raids. Never once had she considered the possibility of innocents aboard a pirate ship.

 

Her brow furrowed as the stars began to shine through the deep blue of the night sky. Her morals warred with her desires until a realization came over her like a surging tide. It didn’t matter. At least not until they escaped the island. If they ever did. 

 

Jaina glanced toward the shelter, catching sight of Sylvanas and Velonara slipping inside. She caught Sylvanas’s gaze. The elf’s ears perked upward before steel eyes cut to the side and Sylvanas retreated. Jaina let out a heavy sigh. She knew she needed to confront Sylvanas.  _ Tides, this is a terrible idea. _


End file.
